The Duck Knight Returns
by Mengsk
Summary: Darkwing has been missing for five years. Gosalyn, now a young woman, pushes old friends aside and veers close to darkness. Negaduck has returned to declare war. St Canard needs Darkwing but, for now, one troubled spirit will have to take his place.
1. Ch 1: Negaduck Rising

Welcome to Mengsk's rendition of _The Duck Knight Returns_. To be honest, I've had this plot bunny bottled up for a number of years now, adding to it over time. I didn't quite have the story straightened out yet; however recent announcements have forced my hand.

The Duck Knight _will_ return this June in a four part comic book series by Boom Comics. I understand the masked Mallard shall be returning to crime fighting after a one year absence and, frankly, I want to beat Boom to the punch.

I would also like to thank and acknowledge a fellow Fan Fiction author, Scyphi. He was truly the first to bring back the Duck Knight in his tale, "Darkwing Duck Returns," and I have to admit a great deal of this plot was inspired by his work, albeit with one crucial plot difference.

I've let Scyphi in on one twist I have planned. Here's hoping I can deliver a few more.

I would also like to raise a possibility I have in mind. May eventuate, may not. Like Disney, I am considering also arranging this story into four parts, each turning the entire story on its head. I'm still ironing out some details so we'll see how I do. You can be the judges.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show. I did have a Darkwing novel when I was younger but I guess you could say that it was loved beyond repair.

**The Duck Knight rated T for language and violence. I like to have a tad more leeway.**

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The Duck Knight Returns

Ch 1: Negaduck Rising

**S.H.U.S.H. High Security Storage Facility, Codename: Rabbit Hole**

**1347 hrs**

The Director's motorcade roared along the simple dirt road at high speed. Three SUVs with air support. This deep in the badlands of America, only the buzzards and rattlesnakes were disturbed by their passing.

But they did not pass unobserved. Rabbit Hole Command was operating at high alert due to the snap inspection tour. The warden intended for Deputy Director Vladimir Grizzlikof to report nothing but praise when he returned to St Canard and was watching unfolding events closely. He was hovering in the security booth, eyeing the security monitors when the motorcade pulled up to the outer perimeter checks. The guards at the first checkpoint asked for and received the relevant paperwork proving the inspection team had authority to enter.

The first booth was designed to appear innocent, warning of a military firing range beyond. Interior checkpoints would be increasingly strenuous.

…

The motorcade was allowed to continue. Director Grizzlikof glared at the duck opposite him. Tucking forged pass document into his suit jacket pocket. When the tinted bulletproof window closed, Grizzlikof asked snidely, "_So. _What I call you?"

The duck, smartly dressed in the grey suit, black neck tie and black shoes of an agent of SHUSH, smirked and exchanged knowing glances with the similarly dressed young woman across from him. Sitting next to Vladimir. Cosying up close to him. Straightening his neck tie. Subtly sticking a gun in his side. Jabbing him with the barrel.

"Oh, I'm generally fine with _bastard, son of a bitch, monster, please don't hurt me_, various forms of screaming," the duck answered slyly. "Negaduck will do fine. In private." He held a finger to his lips. Indicating a shush.

Grizzlikof snuffed at the assertion, turning away in a huff.

"Ah. _Neegaduck_, eh?" He managed to utter the title with all the venom and bile the term deserved. "We never meet, though I hear you as almost annoying than Daarkwing Duck. His eevil doppelganger from neega-dimension. I read you file."

The duck wished he had read Grizzlikof's file. His rise to chief S.H.U.S.H. agent during the final years of Cold War, despite his heavy Russian accent, suggested there was quite a tale to tell.

"I almost take that as a complement, fur ball."

"You should not, pathetic copy. How you hope to get away with thiss? No museum or bank you target. Thiss is high security SHUUSH facility."

"We already have gotten away with it," the young women remarked. She flicked her long mane of fiery red hair in a flirtatious manner. But her green eyes, possibly quite beautiful under different circumstances, were marked only with contempt. "In _our_ world. The Negaverse. Only, you were more inclined to rash acts of violence. And you were smellier."

"That was a different world…. "

"Which works in my favour._ Grrr-izz-likof," _the duck imitated the director's accent.

The Russian bear took it personally. He always did have a temper, despite his absolute commitment to discipline. "When this over, I will mobilise all of SHUUSH against you. We see how long you have to laugh with my claws around throat."

…

"Warden," a communications technician signalled from across the command room. He held a landline against his shoulder. "I'm on the horn with Nellis. Several unidentified light aircraft are inbound at high speed. They are refusing to break radio silence and are ignoring all calls to evacuate the area."

"Are they heading for Nellis or…?"

"Us sir.

Two unscheduled, exciting events in one day. It was enough to make a jailor nervous. In this business a good day was a nice, quiet boring one where all procedures were followed to the letter. Nice, calming procedures like, "Launch the alert gunships, and request air support from Nellis."

The technician confirmed, "Nellis has already scrambled."

"Hang on sir," another operator interrupted. "Profile now suggests unmanned aerial vehicles."

"Damn it, if this is those numb-nuts at Creech having a go I'll…."

"No warden. We have confirmation. They did not originate from Creech Air force Base."

"Aggressor Squadron intercepting now," the first communications technician reported.

The room went quiet as they waited for Nellis to confirm a kill. The warden tried to make the best of it, requesting his aide retrieve last's months review and update on security procedures when handling super-powered inmates. It wouldn't hurt to study the document one last time before the Deputy Director's arrival. The bear also had a reputation of following procedure to the letter. The warden also requested a cup of tea. There was no need to stress in front of his men now. Either Nellis would handle it or they wouldn't. A fact of life beyond his ability to control.

"Confirmed kill on all targets…."

Sirens sounded. The lighting flashed red. Every man and in the room tensed.

"We are detecting weapons tracking. Bandits launched before they were destroyed."

"Sound general alert. I want everyone at their posts. Were we within range?"

"Weapons targeting the deputy director's motorcade."

"Oh my God. It's an assassination attempt."

…

Two missiles were released before the drones were destroyed, streaking across the sky toward their defenceless target. F-16s fired their afterburners to max in a race to close the gap and target this new threat. It was a race they were destined to lose.

Forewarned of the danger, the drivers of the motorcade made the decision to break formation. They took their SUVs off road in three split directions while the escorting helicopters divided. Two missiles, five targets. Four of which were ultimately expendable. Good tactics. Fair odds all things considered.

No one had to die for the deputy director this day, however. The missiles continued aimlessly past, seemingly directionless now their respective carriers had been destroyed. Possibly they had not received proper targeting information before they were launched, or were not independent of their carriers at all. They slammed into the road further ahead and created twin impressive craters.

The crew working Rabbit Hole command released their collectively held breath.

"Ask the F-16s to continue flying cover for V.I.P. I want the deputy director in this bunker surrounded by a crack security team right now. Permission to bypass security checkpoints granted."

The Warden's orders were relayed immediately.

"Inform S.H.U.S.H. headquarters of the attack and request a team of air crash investigators. Organise a squad to secure every piece of wreckage. Director Hooter is going to want to know the origin of every bolt recovered from the downed drones."

A technician supervising the security monitors informed the warden, "The deputy director's motorcade just passed through the inner checkpoint."

"Excellent. I'm going to down to greet him. Captain Doberman, take over." He added to his aide, "Well hey. We keep telling people it's a firing range. A few craters here and there aren't going to hurt that perception."

"Yes warden."

"This could have been a lot worse."

…

The motorcade skidded to a halt inside the bunkers underground parking garage. An agent, judging by his standard of dress, called for a medic. "The director needs medical attention!"

"Sir," an anonymous black garbed warrior waved forward a second anonymous black garbed warrior. The only difference being the second's medical kit was bigger than his weapon.

"What do we have?" No time for bedside manner.

"Suspected heart attack," the red-headed female agent informed them. "His heart and breathing both stopped. We managed to revive him using a deliberator pack but he's still unconscious."

"We need to get the director to the medical wing immediately," the medic declared. "Bring in a gurney!"

The duck agent turned to his junior partner. "Stay with Grizzlikof," he ordered her. "Have eyes on him one hundred percent of the time. Let no one stop you."

"Sir."

The warden entered the garage, privy to the last statements.

"Who's injured?"

"The director. Suspected heart attack."

To his aide the warden ordered, "Clear the way. Conduct the director and Agent…?"

"Muddlefoot," the junior agent informed him.

"Agent Muddlefoot to the medical wing post haste."

His aide complied immediately, whisking the medic, the director and the junior agent through the garage security entrance.

"If you wouldn't mind warden," the senior agent said, "I would like assistance sweeping these vehicles for any sort of tracking device or devices suspicious in nature. I don't feel comfortable when our enemies are aware of a snap inspection of Rabbit base by the Director Grizzlikof before we are.

"We'll also need to investigate, maybe even quarantine everyone who knew or might have known about this inspection tour. Including you and me I'm afraid."

"No half measures," the warden agreed. "Consider this facility under lockdown."

"I would also appreciate it you showed me just what the hell hit us. They've been dealt to, I take it?"

The duck appeared relieved when the warden informed him that they had.

"Five drone aircraft, all shot down. One managed to launch two missiles of unknown model before it was destroyed. Thank God they never acquired a target."

The duck agent, identifying himself as Fenton Crackshell, was conducted to the command and control room by the warden to view all data on the attack.

"You know, I think it's appropriate they coined this place Rabbit Hole. I feel like Alice right about now."

An agreeable, "_hmm_," was his answer.

They were both stopped outside the sealed command room by two more black garbed warriors armed to the teeth.

"Weapons check gentlemen."

They were surprised and impressed when Agent Crackshell removed a cut down grenade launcher the size of an oversized pistol firearm from his jacket pocket and a weapons belt loaded with colour coded canisters and disk shaped charges. The weapon itself was painted black with customised sights and purple recoil absorbers ringing the mid barrel. He also laid out a collapsible grapple attachment and an unidentifiable blue cube.

The warden was shocked by the arsenal. "Not exactly standard issue!"

"Not that you know of."

Holding a hand to a communication device in his ear, one of the guards said, "Agent Crackshell, our facial and voice recognition software is not recognising you. I need you to show us your I.D. again."

Agent Crackshell gladly handed over the standard black identification jacket. Inside there was no badge. There was no picture. Merely a message.

It read,

"_I am the most fiendish terror_

_that flaps in the darkest night._"

…

**St Canard, '**_**Old Haunt**_**' district.**

"**Hey**! Batter, batter, batter. **Swing**! Batter, batter, batter. **Miss**! Batter, batter, batter."

"Tank. You're meant to do that to the _other __team_!" an irritated Gosalyn reminded her partner in crime, yelling from the plate.

"_Strike one!"_

"Oh bull…! I'm trying to deal with this clown here!"

"Strike one," the umpire repeated.

Gosalyn silently cursed. She hadn't meant to take her eye of the pitcher. It was a mark of how Tank Muddlefoot could irritate her. Not that is was particularly difficult. Gosalyn Mallard had the spirit to match her mischievous green eyes and fiery red hair, cut short and uneven to belie her natural beauty. The desired attention only encouraged Tank. He added an Egyptian walk to his chant, pacing up and down the sideline.

Muttering angrily under her breath, Gosalyn swung at the second incoming ball.

"_Strike two!"_

"I don't want to see that!" she yelled at Tank,

"You'll be seeing a lot more of it if you strikeout," he said, swinging his tail feathers.

Gosalyn shock herself to loosen tense muscles. Gripping the steel pipe in her hands firmly she prepared for the next pitch.

"Right."

The pitcher let fly. The ball came slightly low, screamingly along faster than before. Gosalyn swung in low semi-circle, clipping the ball and sending it spinning out of control high and to the right. To the dismay of the fielding team it impacted off a tower of crushed cars and ricocheted, reversing direction to strike Tank's tender nether-feathers.

No home run, but enough for Gosalyn to reach second base: a stolen doormat from a quiet suburban home. Two of her compatriots managed to come home off her swing.

The laughter and cheers from both teams was uproarious. Tank was down, rolling in the dirt. Gosalyn Mallard never managed to disappoint. The noise echoed through the corridors of piles of crushed vehicles and mountains of rusted steel. She imagined the salvage yard was in fact a stadium and the echoes were the cheers an awesome crowd.

"I don't strikeout," Gosalyn reminded Tank later as she jogged home for a run.

…

His fake S.H.U.S.H. I.D. sparked and sizzled. The guard handling it was instantly stunned. Using the momentary distraction, Negaduck jumped the second guard, jabbing a spot under his chin to incapacitate him and render him unconscious. The warden, his mind still catching up to events, instinctively reached for the sidearm he carried as a younger security operative. When it failed to materialise on his belt his mind switched targets. The grenade launcher the fake agent had handed over.

Uncertain of the probable results, the warden snatched the weapon, raised it to the imposter's beak and pulled the trigger. Unfortunate for him the weapon had been unloaded as per regulations when handing a sidearm over to weapons check.

His conscious mind barely had time to register it was miffed when Negaduck snatched the weapon from his hands, reversed it and used it to club the warden over the head.

Extra security would be on their way. Negaduck loaded a canister into his grenade launcher and fired down the corridor. An air-contact mix of expanding, doughy, foam blocked the path of any rescuer. Another canister, another possible blind spot blocked.

The technicians within the command room had watched in horror as Negaduck attacked the warden. Totally unable to respond. They were unarmed and under strict orders never to intervene in event of an intruder. Keeping this heart of the facility secure was to be their only concern. So they could any watch through the glass door, constructed to repel all manner of explosive devices, and make repeated calls for backup no longer capable of reaching them.

They could only watch and call for backup as Negaduck removed a disk device from his recovered ammo belt. They could only watch and call for backup as he affixed it to the glass. They could only watch and call for backup as the sonic charge shattered the hardened, explosive proof barrier.

…

Alarms shrilled throughout the facility. S.H.U.S.H. staff realised the danger had far from past. In the medical wing doctors and nurses ignored the alert and focused on Director Grizzlikof who was in their care. Not so the wardens aide or the (false) agent standing next to him.

"_Intruder alert. Intruder alert. Central control is under attack. Security and medical teams respond_."

"No! This is more daring than anything F.O.W.L. attempted during the darkest days of the War on Terror. I thought we finally crushed them."

"_This is Captain Doberman. Detain all members of the Director Grizzlikof's motorcade. Lethal force is authorised_."

The aide's eyes bulged as he locked them with the false agent. Recognition of how they had been duped was instant. He reached for his side-arm.

The intruder was faster on the draw, zapping him with a futuristic stun ray. Extra security personal approached from down the corridor. She slid on her knees into an open supply room. Bullets puncturing the doorframe an inch behind her. The security team believed they had her trapped and advanced to finish. They never realised who was predator and who was prey.

The woman removed a large canister from her belt; grenade shaped, and sized. She judged when to toss it by the uniform beat of advancing footfalls.

She threw it. Not directly at the security team, this would expose her to return fire. But at the corridor wall, relying on the ricochet to place it where needed. Then she closed the supply room door.

The canister bounced and struck the security operative on point in his tender nether feathers. His surprise caused him to halt and loosen his grip on his assault rifle. Even wearing a cup, it stung.

But not as much as the white flash and high pitched bang to follow.

The woman used this moment of disorientation; tossing attack teeth to gnaw at the blinded, deafened guards and finally hitting them with a stun bolt each as they tried to defend exposed flesh.

For the remaining S.H.U.S.H personal an ominous alert sounded over the base comm.

"_Central Control is breached. Central Control_…."

…

Negaduck removed a re-breather from his beak, exchanging it for a black cloth to mask his eyes. He striped himself of the agent suit. Underneath he wore clothing he was infinitely more comfortable with. The yellow pea-jacket. The black cape. Not his customary red turtleneck sweater; it would have been too difficult to disguise under the collar of a white shirt. So just a v-neck sweater. Nonetheless, as he stood in the centre of the command and control room, lording over the numerous unconscious technicians he reflected to himself, "It's good to be back."

He got to work. Using the command consoles he shut down every piece of security equipment from patriot missile batteries to cameras. Then he opened every door, every ventilation shaft; every barrier everywhere.

Over the radio came the transmission, "_Rabbit base. Rabbit base, this is Nellis. Respond_!"

A wicked idea came to Negaduck. He never could resist an opportunity to show off. "Why hello there Nellis. Boy, I hope you gave you mother hell for that. Nellis. Could be the worst name I've ever heard."

"_Who is this? Identify yourself_."

"I am the lecturous liar, the erroneous executor of evil, the callous corrupter, the scandalous scourge known as _Negaduck_! That's one word. No hyphen."

Ignoring further, increasingly demanding calls from Nellis to reveal his true identity, objective and fate of S.H.U.S.H. personal, Negaduck instead planted his mysterious blue cube on top of the control console and pressed his thumb feathers to it. The cube began to glow blue.

As Negaduck left the room the computers behind him sparked, sputtered and shutdown. Even the lighting. The EMP detonation prevented anyone from reversing his actions.

…

The female assailant kicked open a grate in the ventilation system. From a small container at her waist she tossed in a clump of soil containing a seedling. Next she added water, pouring the life giving liquid from a glass she found in the kitchenette.

Great, angry vines emerged behind her as she kicked in a medical waste disposal unit.

…

"_Cops_!"

The kids playing ball dropped steel pipe bats and scattered. The lookout jumped down from atop a digger and ran. A patrol car had just pulled up to the salvage yard and the owner of the yard was with them, unlocking the gate and commanding they prosecute all trespassers.

"Come on Tank."

But Tank was still pained by his aching nether feathers. "It hurts to run!"

Gosalyn forcefully tugged him into a run. "Move it you dope!"

Between corridors of crushed cars and minced metal mountains they ran, navigating the maze of a yard to the break in the barbed wire fence.

The siren of the patrol car howled as it plunged into the maze after them. Calls over the loudspeaker for the kids to desist resisting arrest were ignored. Too many kids running in too many directions, cops could never round them all up. So it was every kid for themselves. Leave the stragglers to be cornered. While the owner of the lot….

The owner entered his office and retrieved his shotgun and released his vicious guard dogs.

…

It was a bad day to be in the employee of S.H.U.S.H.

All power was down. The corridors and rabbit base were plunged into darkness. Vines spilled out of vents and shoots, pinning down anyone they could reach. Attack teeth and miniature tin soldiers roamed the corridors.

In the garage things were worse. Agents accompanying the Director Grizzlikof revealed their true colours, attacking the guards pre-emptively. Underneath their suits and ties were the uniforms of the infamous F.O.W.L Eggmen and a great deal of conventional firepower.

In the erupting fire fight the guards protecting the entrance to Rabbit base managed to hold their own. Until the Eggmen activated their ace to advance down the hole.

The three SUVs split open and began to reconfigure themselves. Taking on a more humanoid shape. Transforming. They became suits of armour around their pilots with hydraulic muscles and steel limbs. Weaponry unmatched by those attempting to fend off the invaders. Their only options were to surrender or flee and pray the mechanised monsters were too large to pursue down tight, underground spaces.

Negaduck kicked a vent grill free from the inside. Sweeping the dark corridor with his grenade launcher and a pair of Night Vision goggles he determined it was clear.

He entered a high security storehouse, the heart of and purpose of Rabbit base. Inside was the stuff of conspiracy theories. The various confiscated gizmos and weird science inventions S.H.U.S.H. had acquired over the years. Everything S.H.U.S.H. wanted buried. Buried deep.

His partner in this capper was waiting for him.

"It's just like in the Negaverse, only worse. The S.H.U.S.H. types in this world run a tighter ship. Power and defences in the recently added super villain incarceration levels run on a separate grid. They also have greater numbers, higher morale and better tactics."

She stopped beside a large ray device, not dissimilar to her own little ray gun only on a grander scale. This ray gun was distinctive due its three green bulbous markings and a colour coded control mechanism.

"Hello grandpa."

Negaduck climbed the railing. As if singing a child's nursery melody, Negaduck recited the hymn, "_Yellow, blue, red, blue, purple too, blue, purple, green and yellow_," punching in the corresponding colours on the command console as he did so.

The green bulbs glowed. The Waddlemeyer Ramrod came to life.

…

Dr Reginald Bushroot obeyed the prison guards and stood with his leaves planted against the wall for the duration of this crisis. He didn't like all this gunfire. Plants did not enjoy loud noises and he feared for his safety should the fighting approach his cell block.

He wondered who the guards were shooting at and prayed they would just go away. The clicking of Quackerjack's signature attack teeth raised the possibility of a jailbreak. Probably Quackerjack's rehabilitation therapy wasn't going so well. How could it when the individual in question considered wackiness his personal super power.

Ha! What therapy? Reginald had been denied visitation to Dr Nathan Swan for a period of fourteen months. Not since he had been transferred here, away from Blackwing Island Penitentiary and his beloved fruit garden. Here Reggie was kept in the dark to limit his strength. He was kept in isolation if you discounted the mockery of the guards or the scientists taking samples. Reggie accepted he had harmed innocent people. It had not been his intent, but he had. Yet he did not deserve this. All he ever wanted was a little dignity, a little love, and the right to conduct his experiments for the betterment of mankind. At least during his stretch at Blackwing Dr Swan had managed to award him a fruit garden. Now. Here….

His garden would be flowing this season, he knew.

He heard the guards yell, "_Vine_!"

"_Take it down, take it down!"_

"_Cut it in half."_

"_We're pushing them back! Hit those vents."_

"_Grenade! Fire in the hole!"_

"_Mine those vents. I want to be ready for the next wave."_

Reggie heard and recognised the plant creature's pain as a hail of bullets cut it in half. Five years ago would have been outraged. Now he wept both in gratitude of the vine's sacrifice and the hopelessness of it. A brave root was clearly risking its stalk to rescue him. And while he longed to feel the warm sun against his green skin again, to photosynthesis, Reginald knew he was no longer the same Bushroot interred here. What a disappointment he must be to the noble vine.

He also wept because, "They are so going to blame me."

Sure enough….

The cell door and a guard captain entered. He wore a flamethrower and a nasty glower.

"I burned your little fruit garden to cinders the day you arrived here, Bushy. I enjoyed it. Now call off your pet or I'll do the same to you."

"No," now Reggie truly cried, such was his pain. "They were innocent. I didn't do this."

The guard raised the gas nozzle. "Last chance Bushy. I fry you; your telepathic link to the beanstalk is broken. It stops. My men won't be plant food today so call it off."

Reggie wasn't even listening, His grief caused him to block out the words. He fell to his root-ish knees and waited for the end.

It would not come today. Reginald was granted a reprieve.

The entire facility began to shake. A terrible rumble and the screech of twisting metal were overpowering. The ceiling began to open out like an invisible force was drilling through.

Or not invisible. There was definitely a rainbow glow to the expanding hole.

"What the hell?"

"_This place is coming down around us_!"

"_The Liquidator's loose_!"

"_Fall back, fall… agh_!

"_The flush system isn't working!" _

"_Get to the taser rifles; they're the only way to stop him_!"

A great flood rushed through the corridors, engulfing men and sweeping them along with it. The guard captain turned his flamethrower on Liqi, burning off a ton of steam. But nothing could stop this tide. Liqi just kept coming, dousing the flames and submerging the man in water. Drowning him like a rat.

"_On top of liberty, call now and we'll throw in murder and revenge as our free gift to you_," the slippery mutt commented to Reggie. His voice was distorted as if under water.

"Let them go."

The order came from Negaduck. Negaduck in the flesh. After five years Reginald never believed he would see the cruel, psychotic, criminal mastermind again and he had been thankful for it! Now the rainbow glow levitated him gently down into his cell. A divine saviour. A demon in masquerading as an angel.

"I'm running a tight schedule," Negaduck commented. "You can go free Megavolt and Quackerjack or you can slosh around the facility, offing everyone you meet until they finally organise against you. Then where will you be?"

The villain laid out Liqi's options. Coolly. As if scarcely mattered which Liqi chose. Reggie didn't think Liqi knew Negaduck holding was a Gas Gun behind his back. Lightly fingering the trigger.

"_They kept me in a goldfish bowl_! _They did things to me_!"

"They did things to me too. And I'm going to deliver to you the monster responsible. I'm going to deliver him, and I'm going to lay out an assortment of sharp objects, and I'm turn my back, and I'm going to chill out to a little classic rock on my iPod and bear no witness to - whatever it is that should happen next. But first I want to him know - that I _want_ him to know we're coming. Which tends to work best when the witnesses are alive."

He took Reggie by his leafy palm and pulled him into the rainbow light. The feeling of free-floating disorientated him some and he ended up head over heels.

"It's a limited time offer, Liquidator." Negaduck managed to sound bored.

Liqi relented. "_Is the Liquidator willing to take on the bonus round? Does the potential prize out way the risk of losing the winning accumulated thus far? We'll find out after Negaduck deliverers our tormentor and a word from our sponsors_."

He let the men trapped inside his watery body go. Two were in need of CPR preformed by their mates. They were all still alive. Just barely.

"_Thank you_," the guard captain muttered weakly.

"My pleasure," Negaduck pulled a canister off his ammo belt, pulled the pin and tossed it down. A harsh red gas cloud of fear gas overcame their senses. Men started screaming when they saw Negaduck floating above. They screamed when the saw each other. They screamed when they saw their hands!

While Liqi scoured the prison for the unaccounted Fearsome Two, Reggie asked, "Why do you have Darkwing's Gas Gun?"

Negaduck eyed the weapon and grunted. "Spoils of War, kid. Darkwing Duck didn't need it anymore."

…

Gosalyn and Tank were almost to break in the fence when they heard the cry.

"_Help! Help me_!_ Get them away from me_!"

"Sound's like the cops got…."

He stopped when he realised the cries were accompanied by the barking and snarling of a dogs. Both of them looked back.

Gosalyn turned back and ran to help.

"Aw nuts," Tank muttered, giving freedom one last glance before following.

Gosalyn and Tank rounded a rusty metal mountain and spotted them. One of the younger delinquent boys, on his own and backed into a corner by five bullish dogs. He tried to fend them dogs with a piece of scrap metal but the pack managed to flank him and knock him to the ground. Defenceless, he could only curl into ball as the dogs tore into him.

Tank took up a heavy iron bar and surged forward but Gosalyn restrained him. Instead she took up a hub cap and a light pipe, banging them against each other yelling at the top of her voice. Approaching steadily and making as much noise as possible. Tank followed her lead. The packs' attention turned. The dogs were weary of this new threat and backed away from them to regroup. Attempts to flank them failed as Gosalyn and Tank kept their backs to scrap steel walls or to each other. They advanced to stand over the injured boy, urging him to stand and yell if he could. He did so.

The pack lined up and barked. Each side formed ranks and tried to intimidate the other. Each side searched for an advantage, a weakness to exploit.

The dogs were called off with a whistle.

The scrap yard owner approached casually. He was a large boar with tattoos etching his pink, bald scalp. Dogs running around his patched jeans. He reached into the pocket of his reflective yellow safety jacket with a red strip across it, taking out a handful of shells. Making a show of loading them into his shotgun.

"You punks just stay right there. We'll see what the cops make a' you"

…

The attraction/repulsion ray generated by the Waddlemeyer Ramrod, the _rainbow glow_, raised Negaduck and his Fearsome Five like a hand ascending the faithful. The Eggmen were assembled and waiting for them and, judging by the hopes in the reinforced bunker wall, the SUV armoured suits had not a problem navigating the tight underground areas.

Quackerjack admired the armour. "Nice toys! Who built them?"

"You did," Negaduck said aside.

"I that I would remember think! Wait…."

Negaduck's spirited partner in this dastardly caper set the Ramrod to stand by and jumped down from the controls.

"We found it."

She led the assembled horde of scum and villainy to a large ring structure. After tying it the activation sequence the ring began to hum and energise. A green glow emanated from it and illuminated the room. In the rings centre, previously void, a pink vortex was generated.

Even unsure as to the nature of the device, recently freed Reggie Bushroot, the Liquidator and Megavolt were awed.

It was Quackerjack who offered, "Oh! It's either a StarGate knock-off or a dimensional portal!" and promptly started fidgeting with his prison uniform pockets. Jumping on the spot. Going red in the face.

Megavolt first noted he was acting odd, or odder.

"What? What is it?"

Quackerjack hopped from foot to foot. It looked like he was holding something in. Holding it in until it was ready to explode. He signed the cause of his discomfort with a hand gesture. Making a chat, chat, chat motion.

"Oh right."

Megavolt acted as a stand in for Quackerjack's sidekick, Mr Banana Brain, whom the prison guards had thrown away. Even allowing Quakers to move his jaw in sync to his ventriloquism.

"_But why would S.H.U.S.H. have one of them? _Oh, that feels so good. You know the heavenly relief you feel when you haven't used a restroom in a very long time. I've been bottling this in for over a year, you have no idea how the relief to just relax and let it flow."

One of the armoured Eggmen nudged his buddy. "He is not riding in my car on the home."

"We'll take the vital components for building a new dimensional portal and destroy this one behind you. The Negaverse will finally be beyond the reach of J. Gander Hooter."

"No it won't," the young woman stated.

"It will be. When I burn S.H.U.S.H. to the ground."

"Make Gander pay. Make him pay for everything." Tears welled in her eyes. It was a painful topic for the young girl who was once all sweetness. "Don't let what happened to our world happen here too. Do it for me. Dad."

"_DAD?_!" the Fearsome Five repeated.

Negaduck stood with Nega-Gosalyn on the verge of the vortex. Each of them tried and failed to maintain a strong façade. Finally, Nega-Gosalyn relented and hugged her father.

"_Hey, hey, hey_! I said no mushy stuff in front of the guys. I have to protect my evil image."

"There you go. Always thinking with your ego."

"I'll be alright, kid. You're the one jumping into the fire. Quackerjack is going to need your help to keeping the Negaverse from finally tearing itself apart."

"I will?" Quackerjack tapped Megavolt on the shoulder. The electric rat sighed, but allowed it.

"_The Negaverse you, you dummy_."

"Don't make a habit of this," Megavolt warned.

"Go on. Misbehave, or I'll ground you," Negaduck winked.

"_Ugh_! Alright Daddy. If you say so."

…

The yard owner kicked an old crate vertical and sat down on it. Shotgun resting on his lap. Eyeing the kids. Waiting for the cops to, "get off their arse," as he put it. The dogs stayed close to him.

Gosalyn studied him. Studied the dogs. Studied the mountains of scrap enclosing this dead end.

"Climb."

"Huh?"

Gosalyn pointed crumpled pipe leading up to an twisted railway car. her head to the scrap behind them. There were obstacles. Jagged pieces of metal and wire, but, "We can climb this."

"He has a gun."

"I'll take care of it."

Tank began to climb, helping the boy they rescued. "I knew you were going to say that. I hope you got your tetanus shot, kid. "

Gosalyn followed, taking a slightly altered path. Jumping to grab the leading edge of a rail container and using her strong arms to pull her body up.

The man stood, knocking his crate over. Angered the trespassers would try to escape. He and his dogs ran forward to stop them.

"Hey! You stay right there! Stop! Damn punks are gonna' inflate my health insurance premiums."

Gosalyn surveyed the junk within reach, identifying what might be useful. A length of rusty chain caught her attention but it was stuck under a heavy pile of refuge. It would not be tugged free.

"Stop right there little girl!"

Gosalyn turned and used the hub cap, flicking it from at her wrist like Frisbee down at the man. Pancake-ing his pink snout. He cursed and sputtered.

"_A shwear A'll ake' ou' pay!"_

Gosalyn threw more items at him and his dogs. A propane tank, large industrial nuts and bolts, a drive shaft, a train wheel; the man had to retreat back a few steps under the onslaught. With Gosalyn throwing away the base it rested on, the junk pile shifted and caused a slight avalanche. Gosalyn heard the shift, looked up and gasped. Falling junk threatened to crush her.

She leapt and rolled out of the way. A tide of knickknacks showered the container, followed by an iron girder riding the wave. It punched the spot Gosalyn had been standing, indenting the steel container.

The man saw Gosalyn's trouble and smirked. "Got you now girly." He climbed up to fetch her, leading with the barrel of the shotgun.

"Hold it right…."

Gosalyn slapped the barrel away using the pipe she picked up earlier, rapping the man across the knuckles in a dirty hockey trick. He didn't drop the weapon, but his hand stung badly enough he did not immediately raise it again either. While he was momentarily disabled, Gosalyn picked a discarded coil of wire and dropped it over his head. The coil stuck fast around his shoulders, preventing him raising his arms. A simple push and he fell off the container onto the waiting dogs below.

The shotgun accidently went off when he landed. The dogs yelped and scrambled, those he landed on limping away. The blast injured no one but it did attract some attention unwanted by either of them.

Gosalyn jumped down and kicked the weapon out of the mans hands. He swore and struggled to rise with the coil holding his arms. He was a turtle on its back.

"_Keen gear_! Take that, punk."

The patrol car pulled into the dead end. Gosalyn sprinted but knew it was pointless when the loudspeaker called, "_Don't bother Gosalyn Mallard. We know where you live_."

Two officers got out of the car. One, a rabbit, helped the yard operator who had managed to rise to his knees. The second, an spotted orange cat, marvelled at Gosalyn's handiwork. "Darn it, Gos! Now we're gonna' have to take a ride to see Morgana. I don't wanna' go see Morgana. Don't nobody wanna' go see Morgana."

"You could take me to see Launchpad."

"You're too smart for Launchpad. Where's your partner in crime, Tank?"

"I want her charged with assault!" the yard operator squealed.

"Shut up!" the rabbit ordered. "I told you not to grab your shotgun, you twit!"

"I ought to charge you for firearm offences," the cat added. "I would have if I didn't think tangling with Gos here was punishment enough."

…

Nega-Gosalyn stepped through the vortex and Negaduck shut it down. He shoved a set of the portal blueprints into the hands of Quackerjack and directed Megavolt and he strip any tough to replicate gizmo.

"_You can reduce carbon emissions by switching of the light when you __leave_."

Reggie agreed with Liqi. "Yeah, how are we getting out of here?"

"Oh," Negaduck smirked. "That's the dangerous part."

* * *

Author's Note: I have no idea they got out. Hey, it took me a two months to figure a plausible way in! I wouldn't mind a few suggestions for a news bulletin. Crazy is alright.


	2. Ch 2: Modern Family

I just wanted to take a moment to introduce the cast – assuming everything goes to plan.

_**Gosalyn Mallard/The Darkwing**_ - Daddy's Little Girl Has The Keys To The Ratcatcher.

_**Tank Muddlefoot**_ - Promised He Could Pound Something.

_**Honker Muddlefoot**_ - Will Never Give Up On His Friends.

_**Negaduck**_ – Go Home Kids. I'm Dangerous.

_**S.H.U.S.H. Director Hooter**_ – Security Comes At A Price.

_**Launchpad McQuack**_ - Crash Course In Parenthood.

_**Morgana McCawber**_ - Will Defend Her Little Gosalyn.

_**Gizmoduck**_ - Who You Gonna' Call?

_**Steelbeak**_ - Steel Yourself For Revenge.

_**Nega-Gosalyn**_ - Only The Ruthless Survive.

_**F.O.W.L. Director ?**_ - Hates Darkwing Above All.

**

* * *

**

Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show. I asked Santa for a Gas Gun once but my parents said no.

* * *

Last time on _The Duck Knight Returns_

- Negaduck returns.

- The Fearsome Five are Free.

- Gosalyn is in trouble with the law.

Ch 2: Modern Family

It was a well rehearsed walk of shame. The cops would pull up to the curb outside the Mallard household and escort Gosalyn to the door. Mrs Muddlefoot, more often than not pruning her roses or the hedge between their properties or digging weeds from her garden, would coo a sympathetic, "Oh dear." Mrs Muddlefoot was never judgmental of Gosalyn. Her sympathy was punishment enough.

And Morgana. Standing at entrance to the Mallard household. Always at the front door like she had a sixth sense for when Gosalyn made trouble. That was the worst. Having to endure Morgana's displeased gaze as she marched up the path of 537 Avian Way. Her own personal green mile.

Was it a manifestation of her magical abilities? Or did she have one of Darkwing's old police scanners hidden away in the kitchen where Gosalyn never ventured - if she could help it. Gosalyn Mallard had no interest in being a cooking and cleaning kind of bird.

"Afternoon Morgana. May we come in?"

"Of course Officer Piquel. Officer Rabbit"

Morgana led them inside to the living area. A flick of her wrist and Gosalyn struck an invisible barrier whilst trying to sneak off. The officers did not notice.

"We're sorry to bother you on such a fine day. Enjoying the sun?"

"Well Officers, I've always been more of a midnight bird with my restaurant business and _various enterprises_ before that." Fantastic rumours persisted around the station of Morgana's _various enterprises_ but nothing was ever linked to McCawber. "Would you two care for some hot chocolate?"

Piquel and Rabbit looked to each other.

"I wouldn't want to trouble you…," Piquel began.

Rabbit eagerly replied, "I'll take some." Piquel tried to conceal his disgust.

"Don't worry Officer Piquel. I've only got store bought today. Gosalyn's father was no fan of exotic foods either. It was quite the point of contention between us before I finally gave in and learned to forgive his limited palette."

Rabbit was happy anyway. Piquel wasn't sure he would trust even normal hot chocolate from this household but he decided it was in his best interest to appear bashful and grateful. It was true; Morgana was acting less creepy today. Rather than her favoured Victorian gothic style of dress, which she would undoubtedly be wearing to her themed restaurant tonight, she relaxed and kicked back in more comfortable man's shirt and jeans. Her usual, or unusual as the case may be, beehive hair style was dropped. She let her length of black hair, with twin streaks of white of ala Bride of Frankenstein, flow over her shoulders. She might even have looked normal this afternoon had a spider not been a crawling though it, combing out the knots.

The decorum of the home was an oddity. An idealised, picture perfect suburban dream - with a gothic twist. If Piquel were the fashion police he may have broken down and sobbed. You could be plainly seen the conflict between the lifestyle of the previous resident, which the family painstakingly attempted to keep intact, against the influences Morgana brought to the household. Greens and blues and yellows dominated the living room but could not brighten it. Not with thick, black, blackout curtains blocking out the sun; instead the room was lit by candle and firelight. They opened for visitors now, unnervingly by themselves. In spite of the glorious day outside the suns rays did not seem able to pierce the prevalent gloom. Normal couch, normal T.V. set, a normal (so far as they were aware) pair of blue reclining chairs; a gothic bookcase, a Victorian 'throne' with velvet lining and demonic gold figurines affixed to the end of each armrest. A dais from which to read. A glimpse into the kitchen and dining room revealed Morgana was less conservative in these, her personal domains of the house.

The oven had been replaced with freaking cauldron!

_Squeak_

Oh yes. And a colony of bats snoozed in the open rafters above. Occasionally they would squeak as they breathed and flap their leather wings.

Personally, Officer Piquel found them to be the most unnerving feature of the décor. No matter Morgana's assurances they were housetrained; he was still confounded how she managed to produce a permit for each animal upon demand.

Morgana returned with four mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Setting them down on the coffee table for Officers Rabbit and Piquel, Gosalyn and herself, she advised, "Careful of the marshmallows. Let them soak in a bit of chocolate first. It slows there reflexes so you can chew before they bite."

Morgana smirked behind her own mug when Piquel withdrew his reaching hand.

"I'll let mine sit for a bit." Officer Piquel became more formal, "Miss McCawber, we picked up Gosalyn for trespassing on private property. She and her friends were playing ball in an industrial salvage yard. Now, the owner has agreed not to press charges, although he did want impress on Gosalyn the _dangers_ of entering an industrial site unsupervised."

"He pulled a shotgun on her," Rabbit stated bluntly. "And attack dogs. _Big _dogs."

Piquel nodded in agreement with his partner's blunt statement. It was their usual routine. Formal cop, direct cop. "The situation was becoming aggressive when we arrived. She is fortunate we arrived when we did."

Gosalyn huffed. "Take the credit. I had it taken care of before you showed up."

"You're fortunate we pulled you off the poor bugger and convinced him not to lay a charge of assault."

Rabbit whistled. "Didn't know who he was messin' with. Still, we want to make it clear to Gosalyn that the behaviour that led to this incident is unacceptable."

"As will I," Morgana promised, never taking her eyes of Gosalyn even as she sipped the warm liquid of her hot chocolate. Roasting Gosalyn under her gaze. Was it the witch was capable of increasing room temperature localised around a single person without so much of a spoken incantation? Or was Gosalyn just imagining so? She rested the urge to tug on her sweaty collar.

"What _I _want to impress on Gosalyn is that if she doesn't put a halt to these delinquent escapades things are going to start getting serious." Piquel turned on the youth in question. "I understand you're almost 18 Gosalyn. Soon juvenile hall won't be an option. You'll be an adult, and subject to the laws and responsibilities of one. And I'm less inclined to be lenient on adult lawbreakers. This is your last free ride before you get a short sharp shock. Now if you wouldn't mind I would like to talk with Morgana."

…

Gosalyn was allowed to retreat to her room upstairs. Piquel let his simulated anger fade and explained the situation. "We think the yard owner was threatening cornered trespassing children with his dogs."

"Gosalyn jumped in…," Rabbit took a sip of hot chocolate.

"At great risk to her own safety," Piquel added.

"… And saved them. Course, can't tell for sure. Gos is the only one we caught."

"She managed to disarm him before any serious injury was sustained by any party. And I mean she _really_ kicked his butt!" Piquel let his 'game face' slide to expressed admiration.

Morgana did feel a sense of pride for her little girl's selflessness, no matter the circumstances. She was her father's daughter, holding herself to his ideals above all else. If only she could sort out her life. Find a path.

"You've been kind to Gosalyn. Better than she realises."

"She's not a bad sort, Morgana. Don't think I hadn't noticed we only ever catch her when somebody's in trouble. Sooner or later though she's going to do something we can't ignore. She has plenty of spirit. She just needs somewhere to focus it."

…

Morgana stepped into Gosalyn's room. She meant business.

"Where's Tank? He managed to wiggle out of trouble again."

"I wasn't with Tank," Gosalyn stated, lying across her bed in both senses of the word. Morgana did not even need to call her out on it; they both knew the truth.

Gosalyn defended her actions. "I saved a boy. He was just a kid."

"Did you break the law jumping in to save him or was this after you'd been trespassing for some time. Playing ball with the old haunt gangs."

"Big deal. It's not like we we're stealing. Not like there was anything worth stealing."

"Well, I'm sure that excuse will get you off the hook next time you break into a mall or jewellery store. We weren't stealing. We were just playing!"

"Not like you never broke the law," Gos scoffed.

"To which I was apprehended by Darkwing and, thanks to his merciful spirit of justice, was given a second chance to set things right."

"No you didn't!" Gosalyn was on her, tearing at her depiction of events. "You either teleported away, threw sleeping powder at him or distracted him with a smooch - _yuagh_."

In days past Morgana had not considered possibility that previous wicked ways may come back to haunt her. Not like this. Sure, maybe some minor guilt pangs cured by unfathomable riches. Dirty looks from respectable folk - talking to spiders already earned her that distinction. Who cared what they thought? Yet life has a means of punishing one for the wicked escapades of youth. Morgana had not counted on raising a teenage girl. Not that she was against having children. It simply never entered into her calculations. She was too busy counting gold bars.

It could be worse. Clearly Gosalyn had yet to realise the practical applications of sex appeal. Idiot, idiot, child.

"Fine. So I'm better at being a bad girl than you are! With your track record you should quit while you're ahead. Before _I _make you quit."

To underline her threat, Morgana made a waved gesture and an invisible hand lifted Gosalyn into the air by her ankle. Two birds eye to eye.

"Bring it on!" Gosalyn dared. Defiant to the last.

"Launchpad will hear about Officer Rabbit and Piquel's visit."

Gosalyn didn't respond. More than Mrs Muddlefoot's sympathy and Morgana's wrath, it was Launchpad's disappointment which stirred her self-doubt.

"You're not to hang out with Tank anymore."

"You can't stop me."

"You're confined to this room tonight. Tomorrow while talk how long you're grounded – including re-enrolling in school."

"You can't ground me. I don't live here."

Morgana appraised Gosalyn's predicament.

"Just try and leave."

She left Gosalyn's room, leaving the girl suspended. The teen grunted and struggled against the invisible hands but would not call out to be released. Could not call out. She had too much pride to beg. Roughly five minutes passed and she was dropped unceremoniously onto her mattress.

…

Morgana dressed for work, ditching Drake's shirt and her jeans for more comfortable corset, dress and lace boots. While red dress was undoubtedly her favourite colour, it paid to mix things up from time to time in the entertainment business. Also, the luscious red did not carry well in the Goth community as it once had.

She had a new dress she had been dying to try out. A full length dress, ruffled, and black with a green hue from toes to hips but dark green from there up. Green was new depressing darkness. It did not have any shoulders or sleeves; indeed it halted after the cleavage. Morgana felt a bare collar bone negatively emphasised her formidable height so she wore a black petty coat.

Now she required to do something about her eyes, also green. Do not wear a dress the same colour as your eyes it will do nothing for you. Contrast is what reveals the beauty of your irises. Fortunately, Morgana had coloured contacts contained within her dresser. She liked to add overtures of mystery to herself by changing the eye colour at intervals. Sometimes even wearing opposing colours in each eye. Not everyone noticed but it was fun and her attention to the little details added to the atmosphere of the _Shadow Château. _

It was within her power to change her irises colouring with a thought through her magic yet her powers had caused unintended consequences in the past. It was safer not to mess with the delicate, squishy, globes of sight.

_My eye colour is green and I usually wear red. Why not have red eyes tonight? _Morgana reasoned, choosing lava red contacts from a recent vampire night. It was a popular romantic theme in recent times, God bless Stephanie Meyer and Twilight.

She put off makeup, however, when she heard the front door open.

"Morg? I'm home."

As it did most nights, Launchpad's blustering entrance disturbed the bats, Eek and Squeak, from their slumber in the rafters. They screeched and swarmed his head in annoyance before returning to their perches for some shut eye.

Launchpad flayed his toolbox uselessly to fend them off, as he did most nights, and settled on the couch. Easing out across it he retrieved the remote from behind the cushions and switched the box to catching the last minutes of _Duck & Cover _before the evening news.

Entering the room quietly Morgana informed him, "You'll have a house guest tonight."

"Oh?"

"Gosalyn."

"_Oh?_" This made Launchpad sit up. "She came home?"

"Not voluntarily."

"Oh…."

Launchpad lowered the volume on the T.V. and shifted hit feet off the couch to make space. Morgana took the seat offered and proceeded to give Launchpad the short, concise version of events. How Gosalyn had been playing ball with the kids of the 'old haunt' district as most people knew it. The bad side of town. The yard operator took exception to their presence forcing Gosalyn to act to save another, leading to her being pocked by the police. Now Officer Piquel warned this was her final warning.

"I've placed a curse on her to confine her to her room. You can release in an emergency – if she try's to set fire to the house or something like it. Two plates of dinner in the fridge. You'll have to take it to her."

"Thanks Morg. And thank you for being here. For Gosalyn."

"It's my pleasure Launchpad," and it was. "I would do anything for Gosalyn."

"She's the greatest kid in the world," Launchpad agreed with her sentiment. Each of them held a fierce pride for their ward. "She would have been running rings around me if you hadn't moved in. You're the only reason we function as a family."

"Don't talk ridiculous Launchpad. You're wonderful with children."

"What about teenagers?"

"No one's good with teenagers," Morgana assured him, rising from the couch. "But I'll tell you a secret. Gosalyn would have driven Drake to mental meltdown by now."

Before she left the room Launchpad called after her.

"Hey Morg!"

She turned.

"That is a lovely dress," he complemented her finery. Morg grinned.

"Lovely isn't the theme I was looking for," she teased.

"All the same."

Alone with the bats once more Launchpad heaved a heavy, exhausted sigh. He would have to go upstairs and see Gosalyn but first he had to figure out what to say. Maybe he would put it off until dinner time so they could simply eat together. Save talking for another time. It was enough to have her home tonight. Yes. Yes, this seemed like a good approach. She was hardly likely to turn down a warm home cooked meal.

He wondered into the kitchen to re-heat their meals. Missing the news headline of the day….

_Negaduck Returns._

_The Fearsome Five Freed._

…

The tenants of the curse had been relaxed by morning. Gosalyn was capable of leaving her room but not the house without permission. She made use of this opportunity, rising early and performing twenty push-ups to wake up. She took a long shower, enjoying the small luxuries of home such as sweet smelling body-wash and clean towels.

None of the clothes where she was staying were clean. Gosalyn was glad to exchange her stained and slightly smelly clothing for fresh and pressed items out of her closet. Then she headed downstairs and into the kitchen. By her reckoning it was thirty to forty-five minutes before Launchpad would rise in time for work at 7:00am.

When he did rise and tiptoe downstairs as to not wake the ladies of the house he was staggered to discover - breakfast. A normal, prepared breakfast of hot cakes, scrambled eggs, toast, porridge and fried tomatoes.

"You cooked?" he exclaimed too loudly. The bats, returning from a night of hunting moths, screeched their equivalent of, "keep it down!"

"Good morning Launchpad," Gosalyn pleasantly greeted him, pulling out a chair at the head of the dinning table. He accepted, sitting down and she placed a plate of food before him.

"Thanks Gos! But - how did you cook this? Morgana's cauldron can be temperamental…."

Gosalyn shrugged off the question. "I found some camping equipment in the garage. I can't promise it'll taste as it should. At least I'm pretty confident the freshly squeezed orange juice will taste like it should." She poured him a glass.

"I wouldn't care if it tasted like cardboard, this is great! Don't tell Morgana but octopus or snails just ain't how Momma McQuack used to make it."

He dug in. With a satisfied grin he assured her, "This is really good."

"Well, you didn't keel over so I'll assume it's safe."

Gosalyn filled a plate and took a seat next to him at the table. A taste test of her food provided fair results. The eggs seemed a smidgen burnt and the hot cakes a touch sloppy. Launchpad was right, it beat snails.

In Launchpad's mindset food was a priority. Food is not to be played around with (unless we're talking about potatoes. Making spud men). Food is not to be overly thought out or prepared or left to go cold. Food existed for the exquisite pleasure of eating no matter how it tasted. So it was not until he had, rapidly, cleared a large portion of his plate and his stomach threatened to revolt, receiving too much too fast, his thoughts turned to how this could be a good time to strike up a conversation with his ward.

"So…," he began. You're staying at Tank's place?"

"Just the couch, Launchpad," Gosalyn assured him, mistaking the intent of the question. She didn't want anyone getting the wrong idea. The wrong idea revolted her. Made her feathers stand on end.

"Huh? Oh! Oh, I know," Launchpad said. He wasn't ready to believe Gosalyn had done anything like that. "Yeah, I know. I just meant it's good to know you have a proper roof over your head. I've roughed it a night or two on the streets. It was good of Tank to offer a place to stay. I have to thank him next time I see the kid. I owe him."

Conversation already was veering into waters Gosalyn did not want to sail. She changed course.

"How's the workshop?"

"Eh? Still turning over. The few customers are loyal. Could be because I forget to charge them half the time," he sniggered. "I finally put Honker on the pay roll. Part time on youth wages. All I could afford - he _convinced_ me it was all I could afford! I figure his book keeping is the only reason we're still afloat. Might as well pay 'em."

Steered around a rock to strike a cliff. Not a conversational topic Gosalyn wanted brought up.

"And how about Morgana?"

"The château is doing great business! It's been named the most romantic destination in the city. I think it's the love potion muffins. Not that she puts love potion in them. She thinks that would be immoral. Just potion of joy. The name is deceptive."

"Gizmoduck called in! Wants to put the band back together, reunite the Justice Ducks with J. Gander's sponsorship. Tried to convince Morgana to join. He even wanted D.W.'s old gear. And the tower."

Gos paused and lowered a fork full of scrambled egg she'd been raising to her mouth.

"You let him take Dad's tower?"

She didn't know how she felt about this. The emotions were there, they were just - Gizmoduck was a hero and a friend. She trusted him to continue Darkwing's legacy. But this was Dad's stuff. He needed it. He fought crime with it. He would want it back when he returned….

Secretly admitting he might not return did not make it right to pass his gear on.

"Now, Gos. I didn't commit to anything. I said he could use it until he finds a new command centre. Just to make more space I moved the Ratcatcher and Thunderquack down to the shop."

"The Thunderquack is at the shop?"

"Yeah, well. It's overdue for a conditioning. I really should turn the engine over more often. I don't know what condition they're in…."

"Don't you think someone will notice?"

"Who? My lines of customers? I should tell people I built the Thunderquack, it would be good advertising! I get special orders in all the time, no one ever...,' bat's an eyelash. Launchpad momentarily glanced up at Eek and Squeak. Still as uncomfortable in their presense as Officer Piquel. "Blinks an eyelash."

"In any case, we were thinking of doing more than maintenance on the old gal'. Honker had some ideas for updating the…," he droned off as Gos rapidly became disinterested. "Well. On a budget. You haven't seen him much recently. Have you?"

An evasive, "He doesn't play a lot of baseball around the old haunt."

McQuack did not know why this separation existed between Gosalyn and Honker. The two had previously been close, more so than siblings. Miraculously close given their generally opposing temperaments and interests. Their friendship had probably been rooted in Gosalyn's overwhelming bossiness driving the quiet natured boy into line but the pair had quickly developed a deep fondness for each other. They're complementary skills produced an effective team while Honker had been willing to put his neck on the chopping block for Gosalyn and her wider scheme's though he might council against them.

"Well he lives next door. You could go see him."

The girl snorted. "I can't leave the house Launchpad. I'm under curse."

"Oh, right…. Call him."

Wrestling with rising exasperation, Gosalyn collected her dishes and returned them to the kitchen. The mystery as to why the pair had been avoiding each other was one Gosalyn planned to keep. Disappointed to be stonewalled, Launchpad also collected his dishes. It wasn't to bother him much longer. Not when he entered the kitchen. The topic was quickly and completely forgotten.

Spilt flour, sugar, maple syrup and milk; shattered egg shell pieces everywhere. A tomato had been dropped on the floor and accidently kicked across the room. Its juices mixed with other run off to create a slip hazard. The bin was overflowing from empty ingredient cartons and Gosalyn's trial and error approach to cookery.

It seemed Gos had bypassed the lack of stove issue by improvisation - and a gas powered wielding arc from the garage. Melted crockery and scorch marks burned into the bench were testament to how unsuitable the device had been to the task. A damp cloth and an empty bucket were positioned conspicuously beside a blacked and subsequently flooded surface. The smoke alarm inexplicably smashed. Hanging by wires.

"Morg is going to _kill_ you!"

Gos surveyed the carnage and disagreed. "Only if you tell her."

"How could she not notice?"

"You'll have straightened out before…," Gos made an act of looking at her watch. "You've got plenty of time before work." He really did not.

"What do mean _I've_ got plenty of time?" It was a struggle, truly an epic battle, not to raise his voice. He did not want Morgana to lose sleep and he certainly did not want her poof-ing Gos to another dimension when she spied the remnants of her kitchen. However much it was warranted!

"I cooked! I'm not going to cook _and_ clean. It wouldn't be fair!"

"Fair…!" he stopped, befuddled by the girl's notion of fair. "You're _never_ to use my equipment without my supervision. You could have burnt the house down!"

"I didn't want to wake you guys," was Gosalyn's justification. It was not a strong arguing point. She knew this deep down but it was not her nature to tactfully admit error.

To vary her behaviour now may alert Launchpad to the larger trap.

"I had everything under control. It's not like I've never used the arc wielder before."

"_When!"_ Now he did raise his voice.

It struck Gos this was not the wisest admission - in any other circumstance. She attempted to rebound by smiling sweetly and lying. "_Um_, in the shop. With you."

"_Clean this up_! The floor, the bench space, the dishes; _everything_!"

It would be advisable to removing the arc wielder from her reach before she did any more damage. He firmly twisted the gauge to ensure the gas was shut off and returned it to the garage.

"Eek, Squeak. You watch her. Alert Morgana immediately if she slacks off." He left for work with a final warning. "Don't even try to calculate how much trouble you're in, you're in that much. How many weeks we shave off your years of being grounded depends on how shiny these surfaces are by time Morgana rises."

Gos sulked. "Can you _at least_ take out the garbage on your way to work?"

"_You take the garbage out!"_

A door slammed. Soon the electric motor to the garage door was humming as it shut the empty carport and Launchpad was accelerating away a mite too fast for these quiet suburban streets. Frustration released by the gunning of, and abusing of, an engine.

Left alone Gosalyn had her victory but regretted the price. It could not be savoured. Gosalyn decided to as Launchpad asked. All of it. Mop, do the dishes, take every scrap of garbage outside the magical barrier. Everything.


	3. Ch 3: The Story Of Gosalyn Waddlemeyer

Author's Comment: Sorry about the wait. I experienced something of a meltdown disaster with my computer equipment. I remind readers this story was inspired by Scyphi's awesome tale, Darkwing Duck Returns. So if you notice any parallels that is me totally ripping off his fine work, hehe!

No, seriously. I will even cite chapter seven of Darkwing Duck Returns, the break out and the Negaduck/Megavolt interaction, as massively influential in this project.

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**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

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Last time on _The Duck Knight Returns_

- The Fearsome Five are free.

- Gosalyn is in trouble at home.

...

Ch 3. The Story Of Gosalyn Waddlemeyer-Mallard.

Gosalyn felt bad about taking advantage of Launchpad's gullibility. He tried so hard to be a good sidekick, guardian, friend and person. Sometimes Gosalyn felt unworthy of the example he set. The least she could do for L.P. was to pour forth all her effort into straightening out the kitchen. Mopping the spilt liquids, squished fruit and egg shells properly with a bucket and soapy water. Wipe every inch of bench space spotless. Unfortunate she could not do much about the burn makes she'd intentionally created. Perhaps using an arc wielder to heat the meal had been a step too far, however, Gos could rest easier assured Morgana would have a spell to repair the damage. The smashed smoke alarm with the wires hanging out also had to be taken down.

Eek and Squeak observed her work, ready to obey Launchpad's command to wake Morgana if Gosalyn slacked off. As long as she was playing ball by the law Launchpad set down they were willing to stifle their squawking. Their mistress was not a day person. She would not be pleased to be awoken. Besides, the shock of seeing her precious kitchen devastated may have induced her to cast a curse she would regret.

Between cooking an amazing breakfast and cleaning a disaster area Gosalyn had endured quite a full on day already and it was just after ten. Even a little dusting and vacuuming in other areas of the house, though Morgana would be less fussed. Gloom was the theme she'd Morgana preserved in the living areas, personally hanging spider webs. Gosalyn did empty a load of laundry and throw it in the drier. Morgana would never consider to search outside in the daylight for her favourite blouse if Gos hung it on the clothes line.

Taking the garbage bin out to the curb remained. The final item on her list of chores. She stood at the doorway with the trash can in her hand. Prepared for any eventuality.

"This is one small step for Gosalyn Mallard. One giant kick in the teeth to magical guidelines."

She took that step. The magic did not thwart her. Gosalyn was outside.

"Not let's see if my freedom is contingent on holding this thing," she referred to the bin. It seemed not so. Placing the trash can down and taking two steps back no invisible hand took hold to drag her back into the house. Gos assumed she was free.

"Any reason you're so focused on a trash can?"

Oh hell. She hadn't seen him there behind the hedge marking the divide between their properties. Spying on her. Now she could feel the cold tickling sensation on the back of her neck as unwanted eyes studied her. The last thing she needed was to talk to a Muddlefoot. Especially this Muddlefoot.

"Mom said you were home. I'd have thought Morgana would put up magical barriers to prevent your leaving the house. I see taking out the trash allowed you to bypass the magical rules as outlined by Morgana."

"What do you want, Honker?" Deliberately using an exasperated tone while refusing the courtesy and talking to his face.

"I wanted to see you. I've been watching out for you."

"That's creepy," Gos muttered to herself. Not at an angle to see her beak move, Honk was unaware of the comment.

"Shouldn't you be at school? Becoming an educated young individual. Offering to tutor some lost soul." she cited offers he'd made to her before. Casting them back. Twisting the knife.

"Gosalyn, I'm in my second year of College," not that she would know. She'd shown less and less interest in Honker since her dad disappeared. "I could skip a class and two if you're willing to go for a drink with me?"

Gos wheeled on Honk. Finally participating in the conversation. Since when does Honker 'Brainiac' Muddlefoot bunk class to spend time with her?

"You're offering to buy me a drink?"

"You still prefer Hippo-shakes?"

Gos could she Honker was delighted she had responded favourably to his suggestion. His posture perked up. He was pleased after such a time apart Gosalyn was no mystery to him. He thought he could read her like one of his text books.

He could. She did. Still prefer Hippo-shakes. Did want to sit down with Honker, slurp on a giant shake and pretend they were kids. The desire to say yes gnawed at her. Her feather's prickled and not in an unpleasant way. Not everything had changed in the past six years. Only everything which mattered.

"You should have made the offer years ago." She decided she could not stick around to enlighten Honk where he went wrong. She fled.

Gosalyn was gone and Honker let her go. Times like this he wished himself athletic so he might run after her. Not that he knew what to say should he catch this unicorn. It was alright, he told himself. This time he sensed a shift in her attitude toward him. The rosy warmth of his invitation had caused a slip in her frosty facade. These thoughts gave him comfort but could not mask the bitter-sweet taste of another defeat. Slouching his shoulders and allowing the confidence he'd worked up to confront Gosalyn to fade, he re-clothed himself as the shy boy and uber-nerd like pulling on a familiar, comfortable pair of slippers.

"I won't give up on you, Gosalyn," he promised, looking at his watch. "Oh no, I'm late for physics."

…

"You are Fenton Crackshell?"

"Yes."

"So tell me. What is Neegaduck's interest in you?"

"Who said he is interested in me?"

"He did. Neegaduck."

It was hard to believe Negaduck would have an interest in this cowering duck. Grizzlikof existed in a world of suspicion and paranoia yet even he would not have believed this duck before him anything special were he not privy to Crackshell's S.H.U.S.H. file. A feint by Negaduck to throw off his scent, Grizzlikof would have believed.

"There are a lot of reasons a guy like Negaduck would be interested in me. I am Scrooge McDuck's accountant."

"And head of security."

"No, don't be silly. Not actually. I don't have, actually, any subordinates..."

"Cut crap," Grizz ordered. Softly. "We know you are GeezmoDuck. We good at learning secrets. You no good at keeping them."

Fenton sighed. Before Bulba and the unpleasantness with F.O.W.L., superheroes fighting the good fight were trusted by the authorities to have secret identities. S.H.U.S.H. had been happy to let these things lie between friends. Now with their expanded responsibilities and authority even friends had to be watched or so was S.H.U.S.H. policy. "Who is that you're watching," Fenton referred to the banks of monitors which Grizz seemed intrigued by.

Not a question Grizz was upset to answer. He loved to demonstrate the prowess of S.H.U.S.H personal. "This is live feed from field surveillance operation. Targets are Muddlefoot, Herb. Muddlefoot, Binkie. Muddlefoot, Honker. Over on that bank of monitors is Muddlefoot, Tank….

"You're watching the Muddlefoots? Blathering-blatherskites man, why?

Use of the nonsensical curse caused the large briefcase Fenton lugged around to jump widely. Something inside tried to hammer its way free. Under a stern tone, Fenton ordered, "Not now!" The briefcase ended its bizarre actions.

"Neegaduck's assoociate, young woman drugged me, identified herself as Agent Moddlefoot."

"So? What? She used a fake name."

"Neegaduck did not use fake name. He used your name. Feenton Crackshell. He does not like you, I tink."

Grizzlikof tossed over an I.D card for an Agent Fenton Crackshell. Used by Negaduck to defeat the first security ring of Rabbit Base. The photo, Fenton once knew this man's justice seeking counter-part. It was disturbing, the resemblance.

Fenton lived his life with autism. Numbers he understood. Numbers make the world make sense. Social interaction he was less skilled in. Understanding the implications others presented took time and concentration. This, at least, he managed in half the usual time.

"Negaduck knows who I am!"

"Agents - men and woman I trust - are offering you're family protective custody now. Six hours. None will find them."

"Gandra!" Fenton feared for the safety of his wife, mother and child.

"Camp David I stick them or better. With more gun. Join your family you can, or assemble your Justice Ducks. Join my taskforce."

"Do you know what Negaduck would do to me - my family – if he knew who I was?"

Grizz leaned down. Looked Fenton in the eye. "So why hasn't he?" A grim question. Answering it could give Grizzlikof the insight he needed into Negaduck's psyche.

"Sir…?" a radio Grizz had been keeping nearby crackled. One of the surveillance teams were calling for his attention. "Director Grizzlikof!"

Cameras from the team watching the Muddlefoot's place were now zooming in on two individuals conversing outside. Individual A. Muddlefoot, Honker.

The other, a girl with the fiery red hair not dissimilar from the accomplice of Negaduck they were hunting. It was cut short and rough. A quick haircut maybe? Athletic build…. The green eyes, the beak - it was her!

Grizz picked up his radio to give a new order but before he did... "Gosalyn? You're spying on the Mallards now?"

Grizzlikof's order caught in his throat. His gaze snapped to Fenton. Fenton, the duck who said too much. "Eep."

A single massive, brown furry paw encircled Fenton's head. Sharp claws could be felt beneath his feathers, pressing against his skin but not puncturing or causing pain. A gentle warning to do as directed. The paw's owner did direct Fenton's eye line to the bank of monitors and forced him to observe closely.

"Who is that?"

"Ah, President of the Darkwing Duck fan club?"

"Grr…." Fenton's head was jerked back. Now he was face to teeth with Grizzlikof's pearly whites. He realised the bears maw was bigger than he was.

"You have to remember her! That duckling used to follow Wingy like he was her mother. Launchpad's ward."

"I remember girl!" Grizz punched up a new image. A recording. He'd studied it often. Of the same girl using the powers of the Fearsome Five to break open Rabbit Hole. "I not soon forget girl or what I going to do to girl."

...

Tank's flat was situated above a corner goods store/pawn shop. One of the few thriving businesses located within the region of town known as the 'Old Haunt'. Access to the flat was via a stairway in the back room of the shop. Past the pug-faced store manager and building owner, Mr Edmund. Allowing him to keep an eye on Tank's guests, their comings and their goings. Tank was to have no parties, no large gatherings of any kind and no un-paying housemates. Even should a friend crash a single night Tank was likely to be harassed the next morning. If Tank were in a relationship, inviting her to stay over on occasion was barely tolerable and only after negotiation. Violation of these rules was grounds for eviction. Gosalyn had been crashing with Tank going on three months.

From the beginning Gosalyn had a problem with the pug watching her comings and goings. Claiming Tank was out when she knew for a fact he was upstairs. He held a low opinion for her and her a lower one of him. Not keen to allow his disgusting eyes to following her across his store, around his counter and up his stairs, Gos resolved to use her alternate entry.

She needed a rope or like material. Gosalyn removed her shirt, uncaring that her silk purple bra was exposed to other filthy eyes of this neighbourhood and twirled it into a tight whip. Around a power pole conveniently close to the pawn shop and not directly visible from the store front window, she slung the whip around the pole. Holding both ends tightly. Using the shirt to jimmy up the power pole. Pushing up with her legs. Trusting the shirt to take the pull of her weight. In one smooth, graceful motion she jumped from the post on to the storefront awning, rolled to diminish the impact, glided past the sun bathing chairs she and Tank had placed outside for such a fine day and ducked in the flat through an open window. All the pug need care was that Tank was moving furniture.

The flat was three rooms. A bedroom, a laundry/bathroom and this one. Half dedicated as a kitchen area and half, the half Gosalyn entered, the living area. Sparse with only a storage closet, TV, video game console and a couch. Beer crates for a coffee table or extra seating. Her unwashed clothing formed a mountain to break an otherwise empty plain of carpet. The bedroom in opposition was crammed until there was no carpet left. The queen sized bed which they shared slotted in wall to wall and Tank had his computer equipment for his film hobby.

Tank was in the kitchen area making leftover stew toasted sandwiches for brunch. The meal you had when you slept through breakfast. He looked up from his meal when he heard the bang of Gosalyn's entry.

"Thank you. Yes, I do enjoy the view."

Gosalyn rolled her eyes and replaced her shirt. Tank humour. It did not bother her knowing he meant not a word of it. Oh, Tank was still a guy and a pig of one to be sure. Unlike most people assumed, i.e. their parents, their relationship was not a romantic one. Not even a fling. Based on mutual lack of caring, destructive tendencies and boredom was how Gosalyn framed their partnership. She had no qualms if he got a flash. Honker, she might blush if he caught a peak. Here she was strolling into Tank's living room with her shirt off and he barely looked up from his sandwich.

"I see you got away okay."

"The other side of the scrap pile was a nightmare of twisted metal to climb down. I just waited until the cops hauled your ass away. Nice Frisbee arm, you did a number on his nose. Hearing him yelling curses in a funny voice was hilarious. Wish I'd had my camera."

"You gonna' put on your website you let a girl do all your fighting for you?"

"Yeah, well. While you were playing good cop, bad cop, I was looking after the mauled kid you risked our necks to save. I took him into the hospital. Saw to it he got his bite wounds seen to and a shot. He'll have a few scars to impress the girls when he's older. Told him if I didn't see him in school tomorrow I was going to tear his stiches out one by one with hot pliers."

"How would you know? You don't go to school."

"Some of us are better suited for higher education than others," Tank conceded, looking straight at Gosalyn as he said it.

He knew it was a touchy subject for her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"One person in this flat is actually rather cunning," Tank remarked. "But it's the other one who still has options about what to do with her life.

"Yeah. Had all the lectures I can stand today, thanks."

"Oh, so you saw Honker?"

"Don't even go there." No disguising her irritation.

"I'll take that as a yes," smug bastard. "So, judging by your attitude little brother made another offer to help you graduate."

Gosalyn picked up her laundry mountain and closed the laundry/bathroom door behind her.

…

He had been keen to make a client's 1977 Firebird Trans Am cough up a fur ball and purr for him. This morning he'd dealt with cleaning a carburettor on a Peterbilt and replacing some flooded plugs on a local kid's Toyota which had been accelerating like a snail. Then Fenton called, asking him the service the Thunderquack for mission ready condition. Even offered to pay making this labour of love something of a legitimate job. The boys in the shop had ideas about sinking a V8 into an ageing Mazda RX-7 this evening. For the sake of having a spare V8. The light sprinter, an apprentice owned it, would have been top-heavy as Carmen Elecrane. Launchpad joked they'd be driving around with their tails in the air. For the crew, working on the Thunderquack proved to be much, much more fun.

"How did you make this fly? This makes no aero-dynamic sense!"

"Repulsors. I know a guy who knows a guy who built the Gizmo-suit."

"You took all the fluid out of the flamethrower, right?"

"He has a flamethrower! Can we test it?"

"Hey, Launchpad!" came a hushed voice, "The missus is here!"

Morgana. He could repeat they weren't an item until he was green with purple spots. The guys would have their laugh. Or hushed titters. They all liked Morgana. They liked her not annoyed with them.

Launchpad crawled out of the mouth of the Thunderquack. In her wake,Morgana's familiars, Eek and Squeak, carried the hem of her dress above the oil stained shop floor. For once her gliding mystique lay broken as her black high heels were visible.

"How you seen Gosalyn?"

Launchpad shock his head, dumbfounded. "She isn't at home?"

"Not even Gosalyn knows a crawl space Achie could not find," Achie, Morgana's spider familiar. "She must be outside my mystical barrier. You didn't happen to say anything to her this morning?"

"I told her to clean up the terrible mess she made cooking me breakfast."

"Cooking breakfast? Doesn't sound like Gosalyn. Must have been a trap. What else did you tell her?"

"Ring Honker. Never to use my tools. Clean the kitchen…," Launchpad reviewed mentally his talk with Gosalyn that morning. There was a detail nestled in the back of his mind. "She made a big thing about being unfair to cook and clean. Otherwise I got nothing. You came here to tell me Gos is gone? You could have rung."

No. There was another matter. One which made Morgana feel uneasy. "Fenton called. The Justice Ducks are to meet at Dark's tower. You and I both are to be there."

"Oh, yeah? What's Gosalyn done now?" Bad joke Morg's scowl informed him. "Last time you said no to putting the band back together."

"Negaduck broke the Fearsome Five out of jail yesterday. They're in St Canard.

"Yikes!" no jokes now. "No wonder he wanted the Thunderquack!"

"Negaduck was leading F.O.W.L. Eggmen."

"I thought S.H.U.S.H. finally had a handle on those bozos!" Silently, they both contemplated what it could mean is F.O.W.L. were in league with Negaduck. LP could imagine. Morg could imagine worse. Words were not needed to realise they were thinking alone the same lines. It was itched on their faces.

"Morg. If Negaduck has a hand in F.O.W.L. now, this could turn into the bad old days. Running from Bulba and his iron claw squeezing the world."

"No Launchpad, don't say that," Morg reached over and cupped LP's cheeks in her hand as if to comfort. "This is Negaduck. This will be much worse."

...

The file he pulled on Gosalyn Waddlemeyer–Mallard was proving to be interesting study. Her parents having passed away, young Gosalyn passed into the care of her maternal grandfather. The brilliant Professor Gerald Waddlemeyer. The S.H.U.S.H. file on the good Professor was extensive enough. Waddlemeyer had a knack for turning science fiction into non-fiction. Specialising in creating inventive weaponry for the military. More versatile than making things go boom. Anyone can make things go boom. Waddlemeyer worked on devices which may have a range of applications and to make non-lethal a viable option. His most fabulous device, the Waddlemeyer Ram-rod bought gravity to heel. Removing the effects on any given object, reversing it, increasing it, tugging and pushing on it.

The Ram-rod. So that was how Negaduck escaped Rabbit Hole, now a hole in fact as well as name. A crater in the earth. Debris from the base was still falling from the desert to the ocean and his department was being run ragged collecting every little piece which belonged to the top secret storehouse. Opening a line to his secretary, to whom he was especially polite to because as of yesterday's drug induced fake heart attack she held the purse strings on his vital supply of coffee, Grizz asked for, "A complete inventory of Raabbit Hole storehouse. And incaarceration records for Fearsome Five. Database still lists them prisoners of Blackwing."

Grizz had to know which nightmares buried Negaduck had access to, however briefly. Also a concern, Negaduck used these weapons during the jailbreak and escape. He must have known the Ram-rod's location for it to be a factor in his plans. Or did his inside knowledge stem from his claim of repeating the stunt in the Negaverse?

According to the file in his hands Professor Waddlemeyer perished due to a still unexplained accident causing Gosalyn to be orphaned a second time. With no family left to turn to Gosalyn was left in the care of Mrs Cavanaugh's St Canard Orphanage. Grizz could read between the lines. A year after her grandfather's supposed 'accident', the Ram-Rod was stolen in transit and Gosalyn kidnapped. Both occurrences linked to criminal mastermind, Taurus Bulba, and thwarted by costumed hero Darkwing Duck.

Young Gosalyn did spend time in the company of giants. Negaduck, Waddlemeyer, Darkwing, Taurus Bulba; explained the existence of this helpful file. Grizzlikof was pleasantly surprised to find the girl already present in the database after ordering his taskforce to gather every scrap of information on the target. Kindergarten grades to criminal and financial history.

Yes. The company of giants. Taurus Bulba, a name Grizzlikof, S.H.U.S.H. and the world would not soon forget. The mechanical mon-steer F.O.W.L. resurrected from death, who supplanted F.O.W.L. leadership in what was a frighteningly effective coup. Revenge for daring to play God with his corpse, for indulging delusions they may command him and for the threat they presented to his continued existence. F.O.W.L., of course, was not in the habit of shelling out hundreds of millions of dollars for their creation to not comply with their bidding. Once the terminate order had been given on the rogue _Steerminator_ the die was cast. Bulba had to divert attention from his true goal and respond. He did so ruthlessly, making use of his wireless link to F.O.W.L. databanks and superior firepower. Once in command Bulba directed his acquisition away from pathetic larceny and played a shockingly calculated game of ensuring controlling interest in vital world resources, supporting third world coups and creating alliances with criminal dynasties and radical political group. Building resources until the day he could, from the top of his global empire mountain, cast lightning bolts at the one being he felt such hatred for it overloaded the circuits which made up half his brain and left him vulnerable. The name of this highly irritating being? Darkwing Duck.

Gosalyn lived two years of normalcy, adopted by local man, Drake Mallard, before her family life was stripped from her again. Bulba raised his new cybernetic boot to step on her dreams. Probably he wanted anyone involved with his earlier defeat and death to pay. Possibly it was due to Gosalyn being the founder and president of the Darkwing Duck Fan Club. Whichever reason, Bulba felt vengeance against warranted. Whilst he struck at Darkwing Duck from every direction, beginning his long awaited campaign, the Mallard family too came under siege. Director Hooter arranged for the family to disappear into the protective custody programme personally...

Yes. Grizzlikof did recall the Director taking special interest in St Canard family as rooftops above streets lined with bounty hunters waiting and hoping for Duck on Ratcatcher to roar by. Become Swiss cheese.

The threat hanging above Darkwing was not physical alone. Political, legal, financial, emotional; anyone who supported Darkwing was in Bulba's sights. No clever gambit. A steamroller which would not stop until Darkwing had been crushed and all evidence of his existence burned out. It could be said of Bulba he was a fanatic. He would risk no more dangerous shutdown overloads by being reminded of his nemesis.

Darkwing confronted Bulba. A desperate mission to halt the collateral damage. Bulba disappeared. Darkwing disappeared. F.O.W.L. imploded and S.H.U.S.H. had on their hands an unparalleled world terrorism crisis needed dealt with. Grizz knew the story. He did not know it from Gosalyn Waddlemeyer-Mallard's perspective.

The Mallard family remained in hiding though Bulba was thought defeated. It unsettled all factions he remained unaccounted for. It was more than a year before the Mallards were allowed to resume their lives and reunite with friends. However, misfortune tore the girl's life asunder again. Fate just plain picking on her now, Drake Mallard was listed as missing during their time in protective custody. Gosalyn was almost fourteen.

Grizz was irritated the file gave no details as to the how. Sloppy report filing, did not these junior agents know this could be vital intelligence one day? Did Bulba return after all or did Drake forget the safe house location returning from purchasing groceries? Which was it?

His intercom chimed. His secretary had information for him. "Yes?"

"Sir, I am unable to access the files you requested. They are classified above my authorisation code."

"Alright. May I have a cup of coffee?"

No response. Damn it!

The bear stuck his nose back in the file. On Director Hooter's recommendation, custody was granted to Mallard's - valet? It was what the file listed him as, Launchpad McQuack. A photo was attached to the file.

Grizzlikof knew this man. Maybe he had never met the girl reputed to trail Darkwing but Grizzlikof _knew_ this man! By his S.H.U.S.H pension, why had he not seen it before? Sidekick and pilot to Gosalyn's adoptive father, Darkwing Drake! Was it wrong to feel a deep sense of satisfaction in finally uncovering his dead rival's greatest secret? Yes. Yes, it was wrong when Gosalyn Mallard was the target of interest. The job before self-satisfaction. He needed to know if girl Negaduck's accomplice or not.

The bear rubbed his face. Would the daughter of Darkwing work with Negaduck? Yet he had to factor in Negaverse complication. It sounded preposterous, a multi-verse. Extra-dimensional travel. If Negaduck was, as stated in his file, an inter-dimensional doppelganger, why not girl? Made reference to an, "_our world_," she had. Said she meet Nega-Vladimir Grizzlikof! How many Negaverse counterparts around running could be? Oy, Mother Russia, brain teaser hurting mind. He rubbed his face with his big bear paws and sighed.

The S.H.U.S.H. file had told him all it could. Perhaps recent police reports his team uncovered could shed light. Officers Piquel and Rabbit suggested Gosalyn was a hell-raiser and a hero both. The filed he held was issued yesterday he realised. Yesterday! Simultaneous to the Rabbit Hole assault! Grizz contacted his secretary to immediately bring the officers into S.H.U.S.H. H.Q. They could stand before his desk and clarify this matter in person. If this date was an error he would thrash them. Otherwise, if correct, he may to accept he was climbing wrong tree. Accept Crackshell's vouch for the Gosalyn's integrity and would never hold a gun to Grizz's spine.

Oh yes, how inconvenient if his suspect whom he had ordered be captured and bought to him for interrogation had an identical imposter running around and he bagged the wrong one. Yet - Negaduck had known history of impersonating Darkwing. Walking into S.H.U.S.H. unquestioned no less. Either way, bringing in girl correct next move. For her safety or the worlds. You not allow a murder suspect to walk the streets because may have clone. He would have Gosalyn Waddlemeyer-Mallard on record denying accusations and providing insight. If he wrong, the imposter will strike and documented proof of one not being the same. Girl on his security tapes very dangerous. Justice Ducks could make themselves useful for change. He would assign job to that turkey, Crackshell.

He closed the files on Waddlemeyer-Mallard, Gosalyn. There were other facets of this investigation requiring his attention. Grizz returned his attention to the inventory of Rabbit Hole. He accessed the files and entered his director's authorisation code, expecting full access. Rather, he was denied. Under the impression he had made an error he made a second attempt to access the files.

WARNING. The files you have requested are restricted. Access denied. Continued attempts have been recorded and reported.

_What_! The Deputy Director of S.H.U.S.H. denied access on the activities surrounding an entire S.H.U.S.H. base! Reported on like an impetuous junior agent!

"I want a line to Director Hooter's office now!"

But, as he heard through the intercom, his secretary had more pressing concerns. "Sir! Agent, you cannot…. Director Grizzlikof demands all appointments be made…."

The door to Grizzlikof's office opened. "Not necessary, Director Grizzlikof." Agent Donkey and several of his subordinates entered uninvited. A serious breach of S.H.U.S.H. protocol.

"What are you doing barging into my office?" Donkey, a former protégé of Grizzlikof. Recently developed unquenchable ambition not becoming of an agent and made no secret he wanted this office. The bear suppressed the dire urge to roar his demand. Within these walls men and woman trusted with the heavy responsibility of keeping the nation safe acted civilised.

"I'm here to take over my investigation," Donkey answered innocently. "Director Hooter assigned the Negaduck case to me." Donkey's subordinates began collecting the varied files relating to the case on Grizzlikof's desk. When one reached for the file on Gosalyn, Grizzlikof gripped his wrist and began to bend in backward. Slowly applying increased pressure.

"You don't mind if I confirm this Director Hooter first, do you? Can't be too careful."

Donkey did not mind one bit. "Director Hooter's will arriving imminently to oversee this investigation personally. He is very anxious to speak with you about how you became Negaduck's hostage in the first place. Stick around afterward, my team would like to ask you the same question."

"He did not deem to inform me he was coming!" Recently Hooter had moved to the Washington office to personally advise the politicians and railroad new laws through congress during recent dark days. The war on terror and F.O.W.L.'s violent demise.

"For security reasons only, Deputy Director. If F.O.W.L. is undergoing a resurgence under Negaduck we – can't be too careful - with the Director's security. Negaduck has a history of infiltrating these offices."

"Not while I run it," although with the director increasingly security conscious his explanation fit. Donkey did not care if Grizz believed him or not. He turned his back and exited before Grizz finished his retort. Turning his back on superior, most definitely a defiance of S.H.U.S.H. protocol.

Grizz needed only to '_bear'_ his incisors and glare to induce the junior Agents to flee without the files they came for.


	4. Ch 4: The Night Belongs To Her

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

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Last time on The Duck Knight Returns

- The Fearsome Five are free.

- Director Grizzlikof is removed from the Negaduck case.

- Gosalyn escapes Morgana.

...

Ch 4. The Night Belongs To Her

Tank worked nights as a bouncer for a strip club. Pretty classy joint for the Old Haunt. His services in muscle were gaining a reputation thanks to Gosalyn's demonstrations of a few Darkwing trademark moves. He also had a reputation for respecting the ladies, another trait Gosalyn took credit for. Not to be a bonehead to woman was the first lesson she taught, and Tank's original first-hand demonstration of her combat skills. Years before they began running together.

Tank's employment left Gosalyn on her own for half her waking day, unable to spend a quiet night in Tank's flat as long as Mr Edmund was keeping watch over his property. She found new means of passing time during the night hours. Climbing the exterior of buildings. Performing hairy rooftop jumps. Picking out a target on the streets below to play mouse to her bird of prey as she stalked unawares from above. Having fun! This was the lifestyle she chose and she refused to be alone and miserable.

So tonight she sat with her legs dangling over the edge of a relatively low tenth story apartment, swirling one of Tank's beers she was nursing and trying not to think of how she could really go for a Hippo-shake instead.

Coming to a decision she twisted the beer end over end and allowed it to pour out onto the street below. The street was too far down to hear the splash over the din of multitudes of combustion engines. Only when her target, a boy playing kick-ball against his building in the early evening cool, dashed aside of the liquid and looked up into the night air was she satisfied she hit her target. Boys. They were fun to torture.

As they say, the night is young. Gos considered how she would spend hers. Funds were low. Sometime tonight a stop in to shark the pool hall, poker tables or, if desperate, cage fights would ease her money woes. Else bum off Tank for the next week. She would have to ask her employment agency for more bar maid or waitressing gigs to come her way or finally accept the offer of Tank's boss. Behind the drinks counter, not on it. Tank's boss, who had an eye for girls, knew Gos would rip customers to shreds if objectified on stage. Knew those same qualities would be invaluable telling drunks they'd had enough and defending the cash register. He was a greedy old pervert but not malicious so Gos was even flattered by his assessment. She was reluctant to become bogged down in any one establishment with so much temp work available due to fights and hangovers.

Time to look for adventure. St Canard buzzed with it. The city was overcrowded and subject to limited space on the island. The Old Haunt was located here, covering the north west of the island and tensions between the Old Haunt and the wealthier areas, where the decent and civilised folk lived, were always high. The council debated plan after plan of flattening the bad side of town to put an end to scum and villainy. Scum and villainy, in turn, would jack their TV sets. The population was breed aggressive and never far from a rolling pin, frying pan, pitch fork, baseball bat or hockey stick. A looming fear of and cause of many lumps on the noggin of Darkwing Dark, terror that flaps, who's usual problem was any self-respecting St Canard resident would declare, "bring it on!" when he appeared flapping in blue smoke. In numbers they'd been known to assault Negaduck

Headquarters to S.H.U.S.H. Whether they choose to make a presence here due to the F.O.W.L. activity or their presence here, for whatever reason, attracted F.O.W.L. had yet to be determined. It was a fiercely debated topic. And the super weirdoes', well - St Canard attracted more of them than Scrooge McDuck's Money Bin.

A fortnight before Gosalyn checked out the underground racing scene. In the public gardens is some unique plant species rumoured to have the ability to uproot and walk to a sunnier spot at night. The night Hammerhead Hannigan, local mob kingpin, sponsored a massive bounty on a briefcase full of major incriminating evidence. To be returned before midnight for a fabulous cash prize. Criminal masterminds, petty thugs or delinquents; they all came for the case. Gos may also have entertained notions of retrieving the case; however, she'd prefer to see Hannigan rot after kidnapping her from an orphanage when she was nine. The Under St Canard, an urban legend of a city beneath the city dug by Professor Moliarty. Gosalyn knew a little of the wonders below within the cave walls. She'd yet gone deep enough to prove the existence of an underground colony or pre-historic dinosaurs.

The less said about any run with psychotic and literally slime coated Dr Slug, the happier you will sleep at night.

Down onto a fire escape below, Gos jumped. Using it to reach street level. Emerging from an alley in a nicer section of town where she enjoyed clubbing. The only drawback, they were stricter about access to minors here. A hindrance when one only wanted to enjoy the music. Not an insurmountable hindrance if you were willing to climb in from the second story. Slip through windows with feline agility. Pick the lock to the supply door. Pick-pocket a similar looking girls I.D.

This place for example. Nice joint. Outdoor area where patrons could enjoy their drinks sitting in the cool St Canard air around a roaring gas fire. The model burning the fake plastic logs. Chat away from the thud of dance music. Over the stone slab tables and chairs enjoy a bar pizza special between bouts of cheap shots and dancing.

You'd think they'd place bouncer to watch the high walls around the patio!

Maru, a bar maid Gos had worked with previously, placed her knuckles on her hips as Gosalyn walked in from the night air. It was a relatively early nine o'clock. The music was pumping but the young people were still finishing drinks at their own flats thinking to beat inflated prices in town. The number of club goers was still low and numbers on the dance floor less. In an hour/ two it would be standing room only and would continue to be so until three.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. For the sake of my job. So when my boss asks what the hell is a minor doing sitting at my bar I can say, "I asked her to leave."

Maru was easy going and had a cheeky sense of humour. More likely to tease Gosalyn on her character flaws than give her a lecture and so was somewhat more successful in encouraging change in Gosalyn's attitude where other might find obstinate resistance. Somewhat.

"I will. Least you could do is whip me up a strawberry shake first though."

"Go to Hippo Burger! We don't make kiddy drinks here."

"Hippo Burger shakes are terrible." It was true. They were terrible. If they seemed brighter in hindsight it was due to the company she kept. "Besides, I'm avoiding Hippo Burger."

"You're barred from Hippo Burger now, too?"

"Boy trouble."

"Ah. So this could not be the boy you never think about and never talk about and with whom you're perpetually angry with for always being your white knight. Hooter? Was that his name?"

Gosalyn set her jaw. "Honker." The music was too loud for Maru to hear. Nevertheless, she knew how Gosalyn had answered.

"Girl, you don't have boy trouble. You have _you_ trouble."

"Just give me an energy drink. In the can is fine. No point giving me something you'll want back if you're kicking me out."

Maru complied, grabbing Gos a caffeine loaded slap in the face from the fridge. Gos paid for the item but decided to hold it for later. It would survive her nightly escapades in the secure leg pocket of her cargo pants. "You are one fine bird, Gos. Maybe you wouldn't be having so much trouble with boys if you weren't dressed like a hillbilly person."

Tank's top, baggy jeans and sneakers. Usually when people came in here they did so dressed with an intent to impress. Not all of us were south pacific island girls with exotic green feathers thank you, Maru.

"I don't know if you've ever tried to climb buildings in a dress and high heels…."

"I don't know anyone has! Sweetie, normal people use the elevator."

"Bye Ralph," Gosalyn said to the bouncer as they crossed paths at the door. He cursed her making a fool of him once again but saw no point in making an issue of it while Gos was voluntarily leaving. Not unless he wanted to sport new bruises tomorrow at work.

…

The bar owner, a tough old raven goes by the name of Rex, whether this be identity or alias unknown, dragged the girl by the scruff of her shirt collar and threw her out on the street. The girl resisted his pull all the way, shooting off an inventive weaving of curses. Seemingly she was not prepared for his final toss and hit the tar seal. Hard.

Cheers erupted from inside the bar.

Gosalyn was left to pick herself off the street or become road kill. Stone pebbles and bits of glass lying in the gutter clung to her clothing. She brushed them off, screamed one final insult for the Rex and walked away contemplating the two hundred thirty seven dollars she'd taken from the rotten souls who frequented the bar at the pool table.

She never fought back when Rex chucked her out for a pair of reasons. First, Gosalyn actually liked Rex's establishment. She would like to have the option to return once tensions cool down. Second, Rex had saved her life. She knew it. He knew it. She had scammed downright murderous characters out of hard earned currency. During a recession no less! Skilled in the art of defending herself but taking on the whole bar was too much. Not playing the smart odds. Rex taught her this lesson the first time he'd thrown her out suggesting a fifty delivered next morning would ensure her ass would be saved same time next week. Also kept his bar intact so it was all win for Rex.

He was right, even egomaniac Darkwing harboured reservations about starting something on the streets of the Old Haunt where the majority of the residents held a score to settle with the Duck Knight. You could be safe enough if you kept your own business, travelled with friends, mind where your feet took you and held yourself the way a local would. GizmoDuck/the cops were the enemy and outsiders were looked on with suspicion otherwise this was a family neighbourhood too. No one wanted to start something where their families lived.

It was half past eleven. Enough time for Mr Edmund to have left the shop and gone home. Tank's duties, though, would keep him out for the rest of the night and an empty flat held no appeal. Better to be roaming the street in the city that never sleeps. Or experience the thrill of running above the streets. Launchpad mentioned GizmoDuck was making use of dad's tower. She could sneak a peek at his operation. Bet it wasn't as sharp as how dad kept the place. Also, once Launchpad had the Ratcatcher serviced it would be an epic thrill to test drive. Keep the ungrateful citizens from denying a hero once watched over them. Remind the criminals that no body was ever found. Believe in ghosts and remember terror….

A scream! Short and sharp.

Gosalyn's daydreams ended. Her focus snapped back to the world around her. Her heart pumped faster and adrenaline enhanced her senses to what felt like extra-sensory levels. She broke into a run. Heading in the least logical of directions. Toward trouble.

Another scream. Of distress. Also a call for help. And yelling. At least she could be confident she wasn't charging into an embarrassing scene like a marriage proposal or - other. The victim had a high voice. A woman or a child. Close. No sign of the disturbance. The next round of furious yelling seemed to come from above. Must be one of the buildings. Muffled, yes. Behind a closed window. Check which apartments still had lights. And movement.

Third floor of a ten story building. Fortunate she didn't have to run up ten flights of stairs. The building was sure to be locked though. Strong doors in this neighbourhood. Kick the door in she would bounce off.

Well, that's why I learned to lock pick. Commentary from her brain.

The urgency of she felt worked against her in this task. Precious seconds slipped by. It felt like it was taking longer than usual. It was taking longer than usual, she was sure of it. Not for the first time Gos determined to build herself a grapple to zoom up and down building exteriors.

Door open. She was in. Up the stairs two each bound. Entering the third floor corridor she halted to get her bearings. The apartment with the lights on – this way. Must be the one with the door open.

The screaming had stopped. Never a good sign but the commotion had not stopped. Gos got the idea someone was breaking plates. There was also cruel laughter of more than one man.

Gosalyn slide to a halt at the open doorway. Gripping the door frame and creating a barrier for four patched assholes thinking of leaving. The four halted in the corridor before Gosalyn, marginally perplexed by her arrival. The youngest thug looked like a minor playing dress up in his leather.

"What do you want, chicken legs?" the apparent leader queried Gos. "This is Bloodied Vulture business. Get the fuck out of here."

In the rooms off the corridor Gos observed the state of the flat. Overturned dressers and smashed dinner ware. A boy, he looked uninjured, watched as the men made to leave.

Local punk gangs. Hoodlums and petty drug merchants. Thought they owned the block. Not smart enough to be concerned about a witness. Why should they be? Gos did not present such an intimidating figure. Shorter than three of the punks. Baggy trainers stained from being thrown in the gutter. Dad had taught how perception, how the criminal element perceives you, can determine a bloodless surrender or a fight for your life in advance of physical confrontation. Of course, dad dressed in a purple suit and wore a fedora. He always had to fight for his life.

Gos decided she was pleased the thugs weren't intimidated enough to back down. I'm going to enjoy this, she thought and stepped forward to meet them in the corridor.

…

At least one of the hoodlums had been a street brawler. The others relied on the gang mentality of numbers and intimidation to take what they wanted. None were a match. Once two of their number was down, including the experienced fighter, the remaining two opponents submitted.

Gos decided not to involve the police in this matter. Get the wrong sort and it could be Gos charged with using unnecessary force in apprehension of these low lives. Technically true. It may also involve a day presenting evidence in court and a ride back to her guardians, Launchpad and Morgana. Embarrassing for her to be sure. The primary reason for not calling the cops though, this was not the sort of neighbourhood were police involvement was appreciated, even by victims. It wouldn't gain the woman and her son any allies amongst the neighbours whom were doubtless awake and pretending there was no commotion next door. It wouldn't earn the forgiveness of the Vultures either if three patched members, the younger she could see now was an initiate, went down over this incident.

Smarting from a good shot to her ear, Gos grabbed the patch still standing. "You want to tell me what this was about?"

"They broke in and started yelling about their money and throwing things," was the boy who lived in the flat's answer. His mother was less enthused to talk.

"You can talk to me or you can talk to the cops."

"They said I owed them money."

"That's better," Gos let the patch go, for now, and refocused her attention. "You want to tell me the truth this time?"

No. She didn't _want_ to. "I carry things for them. Deliver packages. But today one of the men took the package and wouldn't pay. The Vultures trashed my place looking for money they say I owe them. Saying I have to work off my debt."

"Well, there you go," Gosalyn shoved the patch. "The type of scum you boys do business with and you're surprised you got ripped off? What are you doing here? Are you going to let some dope head take your product and not pay? Why come here?"

The patch had no answer. His friends on the ground, the blood in their heads was pumping thud, thud, thud in time with their heartbeats. They were conscious but found it difficult to concentrate on words being spoken. What they could recognise was the attitude in Gosalyn's words. Honed their concentration in on it and heard her message loud and clear over their ponding heads.

"Do you want people to think you're weak? Do want your customers to think they can take what they want and it's your women who have to pay? Everyone on the street will be walking over you inside of a week!

"Now get out of here. And count yourselves lucky Darkwing didn't see this. This is still his town."

Usually such a comment would have caused the evil-doers to laugh out loud. Darkwing had been dead for years. He was before the new generation's time. Tonight, even should doubts return with their confidence in the morning, they took Gosalyn at her word.

"I tried to tell them I wouldn't do it anymore," the woman voiced when Gosalyn was gone.

"If you're serious about that, I have the connections to make the vultures go away. You got a pen?

"Private number of GizmoDuck of the Justice Ducks," Gos explained as she wrote it on the message book next to the phone. "Tell him Gosalyn gave you the number. Said he could help you."

GizmoDuck! This was a superhero the new generation understood. Her son glowed with excitement.

Exiting, Gosalyn caught a whiff of beer from the coat rake. The boys coat looked soaked and there had been no rain tonight. Gos pulled out a Grant and tucked it in the coat pocket.

"For the dry cleaning. Sorry."

…

It was late. After midnight. To stay sharp in his studies Honker tried to catch a good night's sleep every night and continue his readings in the morning. He would have crashed hours ago as his mother suggested only he had received a new assignment in class today and he was so engrossed in the research it was hard to put the text books down. Or, currently, the latest published articles provided by several on line scientific journals. His parents bought the subscriptions for him as he began college. It was hard to fight the logic, "five minutes more couldn't hurt." Not when the latest published findings from the Cern particle collider team had them confident they'd finally recorded the first evidence of the Higgs-Boson particle, actually a wave, a key component in the current theoretical model of mass. Long believed to exist but also completely elusive.

Honk bookmarked any passage he found relevant to his paper and compiled a list of the sources he would like to reference, the course lecturers preferring to pre-approve first and second year student's use of on-line material. There being so many so many unreliable blogs and opinion pieces on the web which could not validate their findings. Now he decided he could hit the hay, although…. It would be a shame to have spent all evening at work and no play. He was certain were Gosalyn here with him she would have given voice to similar sentiments. Probably her words chosen would have less elegance but more heart. So, how does your typical teenage nerd kick back late at night with the internet at his fingertips?

"I could pirate a comic book, I suppose."

He knew of his brother's hobby, Tank TV. An amateur film/blog channel he'd created on U-tube. As if submitting the video for millions of people to see somehow legitimised Tank making a fool of himself. Still, maybe Gos would make an appearance. He could see the life his friend had been leading the past three months. In fact, if Tank had any sense he would follow her around with the camera. A plucky, kung-fu master redhead causing havoc - overweight Tank in a singlet sitting in his bedroom. Which was the greater draw card?

_What is Tank Television_? 293 hits! In a year! There were clips of stain removal products with greater hit counts!

Honk hit play. His brother's ugly mug captured the screen. He was walking alongside a storm drain holding the camera in his face. Projecting an image of cool with his goatee and mutton chops extending down the sides of his face. Wearing a black singlet and Top Eagle aviator sunglasses.

"_So what is Tank TV?"_

Segments were edited in between his lines. Tank speaking into a VHS tape, "Calling all Ducks! Calling all Ducks!" He seemed disturbed when the tape responded, "Get off the air you prick!"

"_It's the future. Now_."

His future looked a lot like the present. "It's ringing... Hello? This is Steven Ridge from the Verge Radio Station! You are live on the air! Are you willing to play a game for a shot at $1000 dollars!"

Prank calls. Was not Tank a comic genius?

"_It is an Informitive and it's inovative viewing experience. Informovative!"_

Two of Tank's buddies donned toy helmets, Optimus Peacock and Duck Vader. Began a fierce head butting contest.

"_Pushing the cutting edge of entertainment!"_

Unfortunately, the next clip was of Tank. Stepping off a public transport bus. Wearing only his undershorts.

Knocking on the door to a private residence.

"Hello?"

"Oh? Hey.

An uncomfortable standoff. "Do I know you?"

"No. I'm just standing here. Chilling. Why are you in my house?"

"This is my house!"

"_What is_ _Tank TV? Words cannot describe it._"

Tank, dressed somewhat like a hobo, setting his hat down in the street. He started clapping and shuffling to a beat only in his head. The occasional kind souls fooled into throwing a quarter in his hat.

Tank inflating a balloon using his nose

"_I don't know what Tank TV is."_

"Quack! Quack, quack..." Tank slapped his quaking mate on the back of the head from the seat behind. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know..."

_"No one will ever know what Tank TV is."_

Finally a clip of Gosalyn. She was working. Taking the order's at Tank's table. Honk had not realised she had found a job. "Is that thing on or are you two just jerking me around?"

"_Tank TV - is."_

Gosalyn's second clip. This time she was in the process of showing Tank who was really in charge. "_Give me that_!" Tank and his unidentified mate tried to run. The picture blurred with Tank pumping his arms as he ran. The sound remained unaffected. Gos must have given chase because the pair was cursing for their lives!

The ending credits were listed against a slideshow of still images. Gos must have come around at some point because she featured in a few. Snowboarding. Attaching _Tank TV_ bumper stickers on unsuspecting shopper's cars. Climbing the outside of a building...

She looked happy. Living the life of a street hooligan. No wonder she had dumped his sorry butt. Run out on their friendship. The best he could offer was assistance with her falling grades as Gosalyn sunk lower and lower. He had failed to appreciate Gosalyn did not want her grades to improve. She did not care about the grades. Or school as she invented new methods of being exiled from sports and finally expelled from half the schools in St Canard. She wanted freedom. She wanted to cut all the restricting responsibilities from her life. She wanted something Honker could not offer. And Tank could.

They were always an odd couple to begin with. A pair of outcasts. Honk a brain. Gos never got along with other girls and was young enough to think all boys were stupid and gross. Thrown together from a combination of Gos being incensed by bullies picking on him, being neighbours and Honker correctly determining Mr Mallard and Darkwing Duck were one in the same. He was the only one Gosalyn could share this amazing secret with. In defiance of all factors working against them Honk believed they would be a team forever. He believed even as they said goodbye for now. S.H.U.S.H. taking the Mallards away somewhere safe. Gosalyn promised everything would be the same when they came back. But Mr Mallard never came back. He didn't realise it at the time but Gosalyn did not come back either. The next three years he spent pretending it was the same as she drifted away. Until one day he lost her.

_Some method of blowing off steam_. Honk blew out a long breath and clicked on links until he found something fun. Funny cats. Prank war. Scenes from Warpgate. The sci-fi bent caused a new link to appear.

_Negaduck makes S.H.U.S.H. base fly_.

Posted by Beaks Of Steel. Dated today.

Hits 3 million and counting.

"Negaduck?"

…

Enough adventure for one night. Gos left the streets for the comfort of a bar. Underage was determined by being too young to pay in the Old Haunt. Cold hard cash bought you maturity, assuming you could hold onto it. Assuming you were not mugged. Gosalyn had no fears about being thrown out in this part of town. Nor was she found of intoxication, she did not drink to get plastered. Even as low as she had fallen she knew never to sacrifice her wits with alcohol. A sharp mind be more important for a young lady rubbing shoulders with scum. So she asked for a bottled cola drink, anything not bottled probably had alcohol, and let the barman keep the change.

_Negaduck Returns! Fearsome Five on the loose_.

She caught a flash of the TV above the bar. Stock images of the Fearsome Five, she believed momentarily Canard Copy was running an expose of terrors from the past. Not immediately did it spark within her brain that the report banner explicitly stated _Returns. _

"_Turn that up_!"

"… _edition of Canard Copy: Nightline. I'm Spike Angle. _

"_Continuing our top story, after nearly decade long absence criminal mastermind Negaduck has returned in a big way. Staging a daredevil breakout of his Fearsome Five partners in crime; Megavolt, Bushroot, Liquidator and Quackerjack. Sparking the largest manhunt since Taurus Bulba and it is centred right here in St Canard, the villain's previous stomping ground. Today's latest development, while authorities decline to release details as to the escape at this early stage in their investigation or comment on reports of numerous objects falling from the sky from the Nevada Desert to the Gulf of Mexico a video has circulated over the global internet, purported to have been filmed by the Fiendish Organisation for World Larceny and said to depict a raid on a classified, secure S.H.U.S.H. facility where the criminals had been incarcerated. F.O.W.L. also clams visiting Deputy Director Vladimir Grizzlikof was taken hostage during the crisis."_

The image of Spike Angle was replaced by said video while he continued to make commentary.

"_You can see from these first clips explosions on the ground as aircraft circle_…."

…

The camera operator, whoever they may be although Honker had a theory, was some distance from the action on an elevated position. Events in the distance were indecipherable. Specks on the horizon were evidently aircraft of a sort and there were explosions on the ground. Whose side the aircraft belonged to and what or who they were shooting at could not be determined.

This was irrelevant. It was events near the end of the recording, the still picture of the desert fast-forwarding forty minutes by the time stamp, incredible as they may seem which disturbed.

The desert began to glow. Like a rainbow. The full visual spectrum. And the area the glow surrounded was ripped from the Earth as if by the hand of God. It rose. It soared. The camera operator cried curses of joy! Honker knew the effects of the Waddlemeyer Ram-rod when he saw it. Gravity turned on its head. He did not make best friends with the granddaughter of mythic Professor Waddlemeyer without fishing for details.

The debris field – chunks were breaking off from the primary portion/object/asteroid? It was leaving a floating debris field in its wake. An asteroid belt of rainbow glow; spinning and crashing and spreading.

The video changed location. The time stamp indicated roughly six hours had passed. The glow around the chunk of desert rock was weakening. Gravity was reasserting control. How far it had travelled could not be determined; there were no landmarks to indicate where it was. It was over the ocean. The camera operator seemed to be recording from a beach. Ducking the military fliers keeping pace with the renegade clump of Earth. Actually, now more of the Earth had fallen away it was becoming clear something metallic existed buried deep into the rock. Could it have been a lair? A hidden base?

The Waddlemeyer effect failed with the object hanging twenty to thirty meters above the water line. It crashed into the ocean. Whatever its eventual fate, float or sink, was obscured by the wave it caused. The camera operator, realising the beach was not a safe position with the wave incoming, fled. Hopped a pick up yelling, "_Drive, drive, drive_…!"

The film cut out but its existence suggested the camera operator did escape. Or that party posting the video, _Beaks of Steel_, went to great effort to recover it from the ocean. They already had, obviously, prior knowledge of these events and worked to bring them to public light.

So just what did _Beaks of Steel_ gain?

…

"_While Police Commissioner Barken and even S.H.U.S.H. Director Hooter, recently arrived from Washington, have pledged to hunt down this mad-man it has been noted the only individual with a track record for thwarting Negaduck remains the cities often unwanted protector, Darkwing Duck. However, with his disappearance six years ago it seems terror is free to walk St Canard streets again and the night belongs to the depraved_."

"No Spike," Gosalyn removed herself from the bar stool from which she had been wrapped in the report. She left the bar, the hint of a plan forming on her minds horizon. "The night belongs to Darkwing."

…


	5. Ch 5: The Murderer's Speech

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

* * *

Last time on _The Duck Knight Returns_

- The Fearsome Five are free.

…

Ch 5: The Murderer's Speech

It was always dark on the lot at night despite the abundance of security lighting. The high walls surrounding the compound created an imposing fortress. Security personnel manned the entrances. Patrols randomly and regularly swept the large warehouses. Millions of dollars' worth of equipment, industry secrets and high profile targets had to be protected. All of which made this place, by the thinking of a perverse mind, the perfect hide out and base of operations for a strike on the city.

All one needed was the proper means to enter and exit undetected. The skill set of the Fearsome Five may have helped immensely in this task. Bushroot may have controlled the shrubbery strategically placed to give the wall a more friendly public face. He could have commanded the tallest trees to give the plotters a boost or the shrubs to dig a secret tunnel entrance with their roots. Quackerjack may have built the five pogo sticks to jump the wall or Liquidator burst through the pavement via the water network all the while Megavolt kept the lights shorted. Certainly they were all itching to become reacquainted with their powers. Negaduck's philosophy to remaining undetected, however, was to follow procedure and pass through the main archway.

How better to enter the compound covertly than in a stylish stretch limo, painted to depict a summer paradise and loaded with all the extras? ALL the extras, such as an extravagant spa pool on the roof.

As extremely difficult as the task must have been the expert driver manoeuvred the unwieldy vehicle in line with guard booth. Paying no mind the tail end still impeded traffic on the road. The gate keeper knocked first on the blacked out window of the driver. Power window motors whirred. He only let it down a fraction so the keeper may witness his head jerk toward the rear. Indicating he should talk with the grand high passenger.

Who, unlike his driver, was good enough to wind his window the full length down and engage in jovial chat. "Evening Frank, how's Lily? You said she took a tumble."

"Good evening Mr Herb," Frank observed the well-lit interior of the limo. Movie producer Mr Herb Muddlefoot, call me Herb, and his two associates dressed in the finest European suits. "Lily's fine, she can't wait to be back on her bike once the cast comes off. It's my nerves that are shot. "

"Kids. They're irrepressible. I have one just like her. Well – had one." He'd told the story before of how they were separated, leaving out by inter-dimensional space-time.

"May I ask why you're here at this hour?"

"Meet Pelican," Herb, a.k.a. Negaduck, waved Quackerjack to sidle over for the guard to evaluate. "I came in to the office to get him signed before those jerks at Disney headhunt him. Give Frank a smile will you?" he asked of 'Pelican'.

Frank laughed when he did. Picture perfect goofy. "He's perfect, sir."

Granted access, the driver snaked his way through the lot to Negaduck's warehouse. He needed no instructions which route to take. Mr Negaduck had been preparing this for some time via proxy.

He pulled up alongside their destination and moved swiftly to open the car door for his charges. A lowly, uncultured villain such as Bushroot had no conception of the niceties henchmen afforded and let himself out from the front passenger side where he had been hidden from view. Negaduck had no time for the niceties and allowed himself out also, followed by his suit wearing companions Quackerjack and Megavolt. All the driver might do was hold the door for them and close it once they were clear.

He was able to aid Liquidator, removing the cover to the spa pool from which the slippery character had hidden.

"Eggman," Negaduck reflected it was odd to refer to them as such without their distinct helmets, "Stay here. Treat yourself to a spa and refreshments if you desire. We may be a while."

It would be interesting study to see if he would. F.O.W.L. indoctrination tended to drive personality from their grunts to balance the abundance of personality found in their agents. He could be certain Steelbeak never offered to share his comforts with his men.

He entreated his newly freed companions to follow him inside the warehouse, unlocking the set door with a micro chipped card. It was pitch black inside. The space had been completely shielded from outside light – or snooping eyes. Negs hit a bank of light bulb switches next to the door but the shadows were not chased away until Negs hit the circuit breakers for the flood lights.

"Welcome home boys. Like coming home to a slice of paradise."

He threw the primary switch.

Sand, surf and tropical palm trees. Spacious huts built of driftwood and palm leaves were blended in to the foliage. On the beach, from the night before, a smouldering camp fire was ringed by deck chairs and drift logs. The artificial environment could have used strummed aloha music to set the atmosphere, which, by the way, lacked the humidity and glorious warmth of the Caribbean. This chilly warehouse in the middle of St Canard still suffered from, well, the chill of a warehouse during a St Canard night. It tarnished the magic somewhat. It did not matter. Four monsters left to rot in a dark hole, left to the mercy of men running probing experiments and the knowledge they drove away anyone in the world who might have cared enough to save them…. The flood lights were still warming above, becoming brighter and casting greater illumination every minute. Four monsters approached the set and stood on the sands of paradise. Basking in the rising dawn of a brand new day.

"What is this place?" Reggie asked. He moved further up the beach and stooped to examine the plant life. Real plants in real soil, not fake.

Negaduck answered, superbly pleased with his cunning. "Welcome to Pelican's Island: The Movie," throwing over a copy of the script. It was Liquidator who caught the document and began reading it aloud.

"Pelican's Island. Directed by Articus Tuskernini. Produced by Herb Muddlefoot – I assume that would be you. Why'd you choose such a goofy name, sounds more appropriate to a door to door Quackerware salesman?"

"You assume correctly and believe me, the name is poetically applicable."

Quackerjack played in the sand, building a sand castle. Megavolt installed the castle's lighting. "This isn't the usual Negaduck hideaway," Sparky observed. "Oh, I got the carousel lit up in the courtyard! Why isn't it spinning?"

"_Yeah_! I'm going to use the 'usual' Negaduck hideaway after breaking you guys out of a top secret S.H.U.S.H compound. Besides, you haven't seen the other soundstage. You see the script…," he motioned to Liquidator to pass it back and started flicking pages. "Ah," he spoke in a narrators dramatic voice, "calls for our _marooned heroes to be unaware the island is already home to a band of ruthless pirates operating out of an abandoned cold war monitoring station dug into the side of the active volcano on the far side of the island_. In my capacity as producer of a major production and primary bankroller, with the support of my director, I demanded every effort be taken to create the illusion of reality. Taking a personal hand in the construction of a fully equipped pirate cave lair complete with working plumbing and gas appliances, functional communications suite, adequate sleeping area for a dozen men," he found a diagram in the script and handed it back, "and an authentic pirate arsenal. No rubber AK-47s for my production. We're in the show business now, gentlemen. Go hard or go home.

"The studio is in panic thanks to Tuskernini's high strung demands, high actor turnover, constant script adjustments; the production is currently mantle deep in development hell. Running behind schedule leaving these sets largely deserted. When/if filming does begin next week a convenient worker strike will halve the crew forcing Tuskernini to film on this set only. Leaving the second to us. Each of us will have fake credentials and a bogus job but still - employ minimal contact with the production crew," Negaduck was clear on the point. "If the security patrols or a member of crew finds a reason to intrude I have security systems rigged to monitor everyone who sets foot on the lot, yet alone enters this building. We'll be alerted and get to experience how roomy the cave is. Gentlemen, this is our base of operations from where we will strike at S.H.U.S.H. and they will not see us coming."

"_Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,_

_A tale of a fateful flight._

_From a desert hell to tormentor's door,_

_To share our miserable blight_!"

Negaduck had not intended for his evil dedication to be underpinned by a sing-along number. No power in the 'verses, not even his deviousness, might cause Liquidator to shut up and quit with the TV puns. This _'Pelican's Island'_ theme sing-along would have to be tolerated with gritted teeth and eyes like daggers directed at the others. Signalling not to encourage him or face punishment.

Liqi moved amongst his companions. Darting up to them. Skating on the slippery soles of his paws.

"_With Pelican, his mouth piece too_!"

He declared Quackerjack to be Pelican. Humouring himself at the crazed jester's expense with a wet willy finger in his ear.

"Ugh!"

"Hey!" Megavolt figured Liqi referred to him as the 'mouth piece' and did not like it. At least Liqi did not touch him. There'd have been consequences for both mixing water to an electric current.

"_The murderer and his knife_."

Negaduck did try to knife the fiend when he attempted to straddle up to him. Liqi jerked back in an unnecessary reflective jolt. The slash connected shallowly across his midsection made of liquid. No harm done. Nevertheless, there was an implied threat. Try to touch Negaduck – bad idea.

"_The stylish, sophisticated handsome, adorable movie star_." Himself of course. Unless he was referring to Bushroot. In front of the high definition cameras he posed.

"_The professor of roses and_..."

"I get the idea." Reggie waved the wet dog away with his leafy palm.

"_Computers, assault rifles, limousines;_

_Every luxury!_

_Like the Ben Linus of Lost_,

_As vindictive as can be_!"

Negaduck growled. "You done?"

"Three more verses."

...

The crates were marked Pelican's Island productions. Fragile. Negaduck dug his crow bar in deep and levered the closet crate open.

"These components we liberated from S.H.U.S.H. Rabbit facility during the prison break. Difficult to replicate, vital components of the dimensional portal we destroyed S.H.U.S.H. unofficially terms _the Negagate_."

From the crate, Negs picked up a design book and held it out for Quackerjack. "I also have crude blueprints and equations drawn up by Quackerjack, Quackerjack of the Negaverse, which, here's hoping, you can follow."

Quackerjack took the book offered, flicking through it. "Look! If you flick the pages like this it's an animation of a little bunny cooking carrot stew for his friends!"

Each of the Fearsome Five, minus Negs, stuck his nose over Quackerjack's shoulder. "Do the other side!" Bushroot suggested.

"It's Mr Banana Brain! Oh, he found a girl Banana Brain!"

Negs snatched the book away. "_Breathing exercises. Breathing exercises. Like Gosalyn showed you. Kill them and no Negagate."_ He muttered this under his breath.

"Alright. It falls to the pair of you! Quackerjack and Megavolt, to recreate an operational Negagate here. In this universe. On this lot. And synch it with gate we control in the Negaverse. This is your principle priority. Purchase, pirate, pilfer, produce, plagiarise, re-ep-licate every product you postulate the probability you'll require. And keep me appraised."

"I perceive the picture," Quackerjack pandered.

"Bushroot, Liquidator and I will have the dull task of distracting the unfortunately not so dim-witted authorities. To that end, allow me to unveil our first target." The Pelican's island set was ringed with computer monitors for the recording of a movie. Negaduck had pre-installed the operational details of the next step of his plan. Images, details and stats of the target appeared on every screen.

"_Not him_!" and other choice words were uttered.

"Yes. Him."

The basic elements of his plot Negaduck ran through. As this operation was ultimately a distraction, diverting attention from Quackerjack's more important project, they did not have to eliminate the target and could break off when the fighting got rough. It was sure to get rough. The downside - they needed this to be an attention grabbing event.

"This bozo is of no threat to us. I know his family life. I can get close enough to put a shiv in his ribs any time. Probably will. Bushroot, a question?"

Negs noted Bushroot held a palm raised.

"Could you call me Reginald? Or Reggie?"

"Codenames only during operations. Was that all?"

"What if - _wedon'twanttobesupervillainsanymore_?"

Quackerjack and Megavolt tensed. Liquidator's circulation slowed to the verge of freezing, in danger of changing from a liquid to a solid. He wasn't aware he could voluntarily do that!

Negaduck was expressionless. "Come again?"

"I felt one of the others may be too shy to ask…."

Negaduck approached Reggie. Reggie shrank before him. His leaves curled. His flower wilted. "Would you mind repeating your query? Inter-dimensional travel makes you hard on hearing."

"What - if – some - one," Reggie dragged his feet, sounding out every syllable. Staving off execution, "in - this – room – maybe – possibly…"

Negaduck led him on. "Maybe, possibly doesn't want to be a super…?"

"… doesn't - want - to - hurt people anymore?" Reggie ended his query and his life.

The others shrunk from Lord Negaduck. Blasphemy had been spoken. Hurting people was his creed. Reggie was a person. Reggie would hurt a lot before his corpse were fed through final mulcher.

Rather than explode, when Negaduck did speak he endeavoured to sound charismatic and reasonable. Drawing the judgement and sentencing phase out. Allowing the dread anticipation build before he cut the rope and let the guillotine slice Reggie in half.

"Would anyone else in the group like to share? Does anyone else feel this way? Does anyone else not want to be a super villain anymore?"

Quackerjack's hand shot out at viper speed to intercept Megavolt's slowly rising palm. The jester understood this was no laughing matter.

"You want to leave, tree? Pull up roots?" He circled his prey. "Why?"

"Dr Swan said it would be healthy for me. Help me to develop stable relationships."

"He did?" Mock surprise. "Doesn't he like the friends you have already?" Negaduck pouted. "Which Dr Swan would this be?"

"My psychiatrist."

"When was the last time you met with Dr Swan?"

"A year…?" The day before they moved him to the room with no light.

"In that time did you request an appointment? Was help ever offered?"

When Reggie would not answer Negaduck asked him, "How many times a week did they come to take a cutting from you?"

(Gulp) "Lots. In the first month."

"Megavolt! Perhaps you can share with us a flash of insight? Time to turn the lights out on crime? Has the spark of retribution hit an insulated wall?"

Megavolt quivered and not solely from thought of Negaduck. "I don't want to go back."

"Tell Bushroot – Reggie - why you don't want to go back."

"They wanted to see how much charge I could hold. Charge me to capacity and drain me. Charge to capacity and drain me over and over for days. Then one thought maybe I have magnetic abilities too so they tested them. But I couldn't and they beat me to be sure I was telling the truth. Then they forgot about me. Left me in lock up with no electrical wiring. They left me a single light bulb so I could light my cell using my drained energy researves."

"Liquidator. For the prize?"

"They kept me in a bowl. Under pressure. Some days they would try to evaporate me. On others freeze me. I realised one day they were unsure how to kill me."

"They let me play toys all day," Quackerjack told his story. Using Megavolt as a mouthpiece he added. "_But then they took away Mr Banana Brain and I didn't want to play anymore_."

"Ah, cold hands!" Megavolt was not amused. "You _have _to find something else to stick your arm up."

"_**You**_**!**" Negaduck stormed over to Quackerjack. Yelling like the duck they knew and feared. Megavolt fled. "_**I'm not even sure you comprehend what's going on!**_

"So let me enlighten you, gentlemen. I did not break open the most secure facility in the world for the sake of a crime wave! I think I've proven I can rob any bank I wish without you! I broke you out because I plan to put the hurt on Hooter and thought you might appreciate an opportunity to stick the knife in. And it's not about who wants to be a criminal. Because you _are _a criminal – when the term is defined by Director J. Gander Hooter.

"Trapped in a hole with no light for more than a year. Still weeks away from full recovery. You still can't tell who the real bad guys are. Well think about this. You don't want to be a criminal anymore? The population of _my_ world was unilaterally classed as criminal. How can anyone _be_ a criminal when we're _all_ criminals?

"You want to walk out that door? I won't stop you. One time deal, kids. No dagger in the back. I'll give you the damn driver! If you stay, be ready for war because we're going to burn S.H.U.S.H. to the ground. Scorched earth."

Negaduck left them to consider in private whether they might stay or go. Something unprecedented had just occurred. The Fearsome Five witnessed an event which shook them. The laws of the universe which they trusted to be correct were now sliding. It was difficult to process what it meant. He forgot to kill Bushroot!

"Reginald," Negaduck reappeared in the mouth of cave. "Would you kindly step into my office?"

Never mind.

…

There was no window for Negaduck to stare out; his office was located within a cave. So he stood easy, hands clasped behind his back, studying a cork message board pinned with photos and details of each of his targets. In the centre, a bulls-eyes outline over his balding forehead with a thick blue whiteboard marker, pride of place was Director Hooter.

"I hope you believe me, Reggie, when I say J. Gander Hooter has a reach which extends across intergalactic dimensions. He opened the gate between our worlds to apprehend me. You are no more than a statistic on a list of victims I covet. The suffering the man has wrought, it outstrips my juiciest nightmares."

Noting Reggie remained close to an open exit, Negaduck said, "Close the door. Take a seat."

"I'll…."

"_Not _a suggestion," Negs wagged his index feathers. _Ah, ah, ah_.

Reggie took the seat. Negaduck took the far more comfortable seat behind his desk and pulled it round. Creating a more casual atmosphere for victim and murderer.

"So… You want to turn your life around?" If there was a way to answer which would not get his throat slit, Reggie did not know it. He said nothing.

"I'm impressed," Negaduck congratulated the root, "I admit it Reggie, I always thought you a coward. But it takes guts to turn your life around. And it takes guts to say no to _me_! Unless this is a suicide by Negaduck attempt."

"You're smiling…?" Indeed Negaduck was smiling. He wasn't even holding a chainsaw to a fluffy bunny! Hiding his wrath behind a mask of pleasantness? Perhaps. The Negaduck Reggie knew was an open book of rage. He didn't need to hide his feeling from anyone. Did this new development make him more dangerous if he could give no sign when he was ready to kill?

Negs snorted. "I guess I am." And sighed. "I'm not mad, Reggie. _No_, I am mad!" he corrected," You chose _now_ to have a change of heart on villainy, you inconsiderate bastard!" The words sounded right. Closer to conventional Negaduck all fear and cower before. Yet he was amused rather than angry. "Ultimately, you're options have not changed. If you turn yourself over to the cops and play at being a good little convict S.H.U.S.H. will throw you in another black hole. You can bet it will be one where I will never find you. You could run. They'd never find you in the Amazon rainforests, Reggie. Until Hooter burns them down. I can guarantee Hooter will never stop hunting you. You will have to live with the knowledge you can never go back. Not ever knowing why."

"You could tell me why," Reggie pointed out.

"Oh, right. He wants to learn your secrets to kill Nega-Bushoot. You mind? I'm making a dramatic speech with sinister undertones here!"

"Sorry."

"You think this is easy? Have you ever stung together a villainous monologue like this without cue cards? I should get an Oscar for this!"

"Sorry."

Negs began again with his gravely, dramatic voice. "_Nor do I have options_. I'm fighting a guerrilla across dimensions! I need an army! I need allies…!" Dramatic pause and… now we're serious.

"In ten years I must have worked alongside all my most hated enemies. Saved them even! Suffered indignities to earn their trust. Tarnished my integrity. You know, saving little children and puppies. Letting their parasitic belief systems crawl under my skin to wriggle beneath the surface."

"That's really gross."

"Shut up - but if you think the core of Negaduck has softened you're dead wrong. I still cling to that highest ideal of mankind – revenge. I've bled for my revenge. I've sacrificed for my revenge. I have and will continue to do all that is necessary. I can work with you. I can use you as a tool of my revenge. So you can't hurt people? Let's start with what you can do for me."

Bushroot decided this was his cue to talk up his resume. "Most people don't know this, but I'm very good with robotics. I once tried to steal Darkwing Duck's gas gun by – well, I was spying on the house and overheard the little girl had a science project playing heavy metal to plants and I thought, "that's my ticket in!" I built these cyborg pot plants to search…."

Negs slammed his fist against his desk. "_I know the story_!" The tale wound to a halt. Negaduck was no longer smiling. He looked closer to how Reggie remembered him. Feathers on edge. Eyes red. Teeth like a Rottweiler.

Negaduck stood, knocking over his chair. Pacing the carpet. "Can't you take this seriously?" A glance at Reggie. "No, of course you can't."

"I was serious…," about his skill with robotics.

"No you're not. You're – _you_! Now I was/am serious when I say I'm glad you don't want to hurt anyone anymore. I need someone to be my second. To carry out orders that will not seem to make sense. Orders never to be talked about. Liquidator can't be trusted; he's ready to go on a rampage. Drown every authority figure he sees. He is no more than a tool in my hands now. Our F.O.W.L. allies are not to be trusted. As for Quackerjack and Megavolt, they have screws loose. I thought you could be the man for job but if you want out…?"

Reggie let the statement hang in the air. Resisting the urge to say something, something un-serious, to break the tension. Bushroot the lonely super villain would have asked if this made them friends. Reggie the scientist analysed and considered and wanted answers.

"Do you want out? There's the d…."

"I'm still sitting here aren't I?" Reggie dared to interrupt Lord Negaduck. After all, let's be serious. He was a dead duck/root either way. "Fine, let's be serious. Allow me to think."

Negaduck obliged. He was not happy. The scrowl he wore was indicative that he was NOT happy. Wearing his rage for all to see. He paced some more. Allowing Reggie to think through to a clear decision.

It was terrifiying to have the shark circling within striking distance. In order that his mind may deliberate at all he had to seperate his always impressive cognitive abilites from his terror. Still, an angered Negaduck's prescense was comforting in its familiarity. This was the Negaduck Reggie remembered and feared. Feared - oh, so feared - but also could read. This was the Negaduck who's intentions were never disguised and whom Reggie knew to tiptoe around. Which indicated this Negaduck may not have learned to cover his emotions. Which meant he may have been serious when he said he was proud of Reggie. Reggie did not understand this in so many words of course. Such a thought would never consciously cross his mind, or be dismissed as ludicrous offhand should it have. He was considering whether he was in or out of the band. If, however, he registered Negaduck's remained transparent with his emotions it was on a subconious level where he finally felt a touch of pride for earlier words he could trust, about how Negaduck was happy for him. And not feel a mouse to be toyed with before devoured. And if he felt this subconciously it may have impacted on his answer as he anaylsed how he felt and where he wanted to go now.

"I want out," Reggie decided. "I'm stuck in a trap because S.H.U.S.H. won't let me out. I don't want to go back in the same hole. What do you want this tool to do?"

"Not so fast. I have to be absolutely sure I can trust you. Fully in. No backing out."

"Out of the two of us, I have the most reason not to trust. I'm not committing blindly to any demand. If it doesn't sit with me, I'm walking."

A risky gambit, making demands. All or nothing. Negaduck would kill him or he would not. Negaduck had said he respected Reggie for standing up to him. He knew Negaduck could see him tremble uncontrollably. He would think he could push Reggie. Underneath the betrayal of his shaky limbs when the mind set itself to a goal there was tree trunk strong resolve. He faced off agaisnt Darkwing Duck! He had survived S.H.U.S.H! To buckle now would to be a slave.

Negaduck did not push. "You know what I'm ultimately planning; you'll have to decide sooner or later if you can square it with your conscience. But I still need to know with absolute certainty that iron resolve you _think_ you have before me won't buckle before _them_. So, a test. You're first assignment. Liquidator…."

Negaduck righted the seat he had knocked over and huddled close for conspiracy. He could have shouted; he had designed this room soundproof among other things. But some things were better said in hushed tones.

Once Negaduck had outlined Reggie's assignment he stood, passed his board of targets and headed for the door. Best to check up on the other three quarters of the moron squad.

Before Negaduck had left the room, and this could only be spoken of in this room and even then - Reggie had the presence of mind to ask, "Why would you ask this of me?"

Now it was Negaduck who considered his answer. There were many reasons he could cite.

"Because you killed two men."


	6. Ch 6: Darkwing

Author's Note: I hope this works...

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

* * *

Last time on _The Duck Knight Returns_

- Negaduck declares war.

- Bushroot is given an assignment.

- Grizzlikof is removed from the Negaduck case.

- Gosalyn makes a decision.

...

Ch 6: Darkwing

Tank directed an overly stimulated patron to the door. Forcefully. Those were the rules. Any man tries to handle the girls and Tank gets to manhandle them. There were always a few who got a might tipsy and forgot the rules so it became Tank's responsibility to remind them. It kept Tank employed and Tank loved his job.

Out the back door and into the seclusion of the alley. The establishment extended the courtesy of fare for the waiting taxi and a gut busting fist rammed into their abdomen to remind them of their manners. All part of the service of this high quality entertainment bar. At less classy institutions they cared less about broken teeth, black eyes and questions from the wife the next morning.

Tank waved the Taxi driver goodbye in his rear view mirror. They had a good working relationship, Tank and Charley. Tank loved his job.

"I love my job."

"_Hey man! Hey_!"

A pair of kids spotted Tank at the side door and broke into a run. Tank waited to see what the trouble was. As if he could not guess. Still, it would be rude to make assumptions.

"You going to let me in man?"

"We don't run that sort of club here, kid," he said and moved to close the door on them.

"Hang on, hang on!" they insisted. "We ain't no kids. Look at my I.D!" They each produced a card for Tank's scrutiny. Tank took the first offered.

"You're thirty-two and a citizen of North Africa. Do you speak African?"

"_Wazz'up_ _my nigger_?"

Tank handed the card back. "Come back when you're at least mature enough to invest in a quality fake I.D."

"Is a hundred serious enough for you?"

Using his most angry, ferocious, maybe somewhat constipated growl he practiced for these encounters he told the pair to, "_Fuck off_!"

The kids turned tail and left - a string of curses in their wake. Tank was a, "faggot," this or, "pussy," that. Thinking positive, Tank remember they hadn't tried to knife him. Kids these days.

"I love my job."

Once back inside with the back door secured against intrusion the boss called Tank over. "Take a break, son. You have a visitor. Private booth two. Oh," the man added holding ice to his reddened left cheek, "she ain't here for a job interview. Good luck, son."

Tank entered the booth expecting possibly Gosalyn – and froze when he encountered worse.

"Is this how you wish to spend your life, Tank?" Morgana asked pointedly. She directed Eek and Squeak to close the curtains behind him.

"The pay is good and I get to hit people. How could I not?

"Ah..., mam," he added, taking note of Morgana's disapproval.

"And Gosalyn? Is this the life you want for her? Is this how she's been funding herself?"

"Gosalyn has never worked as a stripper." She worked behind the bar as a temp. "She's been doing some waitressing jobs but not here."

"She isn't here now?"

"No."

"Do you know where she is?"

"No."

"Tank. Do you _know_ where Gosalyn is?"

Her tone was assertive. Not threatening or stern but Tank understood the matter was serious. It might be Gosalyn was in trouble. It would not hurt to co-operate as he could and might hurt if he did not. Behaving reasonable now, Morgana was known for her sharp temper. Threats gave way to immediate action and odd events happened around Morgana. Bats nested in her Bride of Frankenstein hair!

Gosalyn, in confidence, mentioned the term, "_Witch_".

"Gosalyn doesn't hang with me at work. She knows I'm busy and don't finish until morning. Nightime is her time. She does her own thing. If she doesn't have a waitressing gig tonight I hear she runs across the city rooftops like she was Dark-beak," that earned him a dark look down Morgana's beak, "or whatever his name was."

Another wave of her hand and the bats flew into the night. Scouring the rooftops from above for their target. As magical familiars they felt the urgency their mistress was feeling.

"You _let_ Gosalyn roam the streets of the old haunt. At night. By herself!" Morgana accused.

"I can't babysit and remain employed at the same time! I do tell her she deserves better than this."

A trumped up defence Morgana was not inclined to believe. It was convenient having Tank to blame for the problems in her relationship with her child. A bad influence was her view of him. Of course, she could not not know he was not telling the truth minus a time consuming brew of truth potion. Further accusations stalled. The brow-beating or just plain beating Morgana had been dying to give Tank could wait. Gosalyn needed to be found tonight.

"If you see Gosalyn, call me. Or have her do say. Any time of day. This is important Tank. I will hold you to this."

…

"_Justice Ducks Assemble_!"

The rallying call assembled the greatest team of heroes in the world. Men and women dedicated to the protection of society and the pursuit of justice. From his base in the bridge tower overlooking St Canard, GizmoDuck made the call and they came.

**Launchpad McQuack**. Ace pilot and mechanic. No stranger to a brawl. A career adventurer with an unparalleled record of saving the world with a total commitment to his friends.

**Morgana McCawber**. Mistress of magic. A powerful and skilled witch seldom seen without the company of her familiars Eek, Squeak and Archie. Her fury would see those who would harm her family turned to pudding.

**Bubba McDuck**. Still a young man, a Gizmo-buddy from Duckburg. Never one for the quiet life, his survival abilities had been honed by existing in the Cretaceous period and he would face off against a Tyrannosaur with Tootsie the Triceratops at his side.

**Stegmutt**. The power of a Stegosaurus melded with the heart of a lamb. A crazed experiment turned this Duck into a powerhouse of strength and integrity.

**Camille Chameleon**. The Shape-shifter and biology expert. Apprehended by Darkwing Duck, aided by the encyclopaedic knowledge and bravery of Honker Muddlefoot. Now working off her debt to society she despises.

Heroes new and old rallied together whenever the world was threatened. Together they had won glory and they had lost friends. They were the Justice Ducks.

"Bubba is a child and Camille Cameeleon should be behind bars."

"Oh, come on _Grizz_. Everyone deserves a second chance. Besides, it was your boss who gave her to us."

"Not call me, "_Grizz"!_ And this information, sadly, does not comfort me."

GizmoDuck was not clear on Grizz's meaning but supposed he should drop Darkwing's pet name for the bear. Remembering his paw around his throat. His wore the Gizmo-suit, the most versatile powerful personal weapon system every constructed and the bear stood a head taller. With broader shoulders.

They discussed this matter in the seclusion of the Justice Ducks tower. A temporary home Fenton had promised Launchpad but the threat looming over St Canard precluded house hunting. How Grizzlikof had known of the headquarters before they were fully moved in Fenton had no clue and it was another case for not underestimating the Agent. He looked out over the bay and the bright lights of the city. The merchant ships floating offshore.

"The Justice Ducks are assembled as you asked _Director Grizzlikof_. I held a briefing on the history and capabilities of our foes for the newer members this afternoon. Launchpad is working to have the Thunderquack flying by dawn. Bubba and I are drawing up a team training exercises so we can hone using our skills in unison."

"You taking threat seriously at least."

"It was Bubba's suggestion. Our "_child"_ can't count right but he is always a step ahead of his prey."

"I catch his show. Wild vs. Man. Not subtle on your part, recruiting celeebrity and adopted son of you billionaire boss."

Fenton was offended and crossed his arms defensively. "Neither factor had any bearing in my accepting his request to sign on. The popularity rating and extra funding were just gravy."

Gosalyn observed them arguing from the shadows. The problem with Superheroes and Agents was their massive egos she reckoned. Each of them was a good sort. Grizzlikof was demanding but held himself to same professional standards he did everyone else. GizmoDuck was genuine in his selfless devotion to others. A hero to his core. But he was deluding himself if he claimed being the worlds foremost hero did not go to his small little bird brain. He always had time for the fans, even amidst a case. Not on Dad's level of egotism of course. At least Dad was comfortable acknowledging his number one priority being himself.

She recalled when Honker thwarted Camille Chameleon from ripping Darkwing a new vanity hole. He'd been on a personality trip; dressing in leather, riding around town on a miniature motorcycle and calling himself Spec. Referring to Gosalyn as, "Babe," or, "Sweet Chick." She would have decked Tank over less. The irony he'd never been more repulsive than when acting a rebel vexed her. As much because it seemed everything reminded her of Honker today as what it said about her own current rejection of brain box boy. She did not need a lecture on personal inconsistancies from her own brain while sneaking into Justice Ducks H.Q., damn it!

She needed to focus on her goal. She was sure the boys' argument below her would be very informative as it dealt with Negaduck and their strategies for netting his gang. Useful information for a girl to have. Remaining increased the likelihood of her being caught and being caught she would not allow. It would be a terrible kick-off to her new vocation.

She turned from the railing overlooking the operations area and returned to her task. Raiding Darkwing's equipment storage in his home away from home. The bed from which he used to sleep the daylight hours away when she first encountered the Masked Mallard remained. So too his spare gadgets and stylish wardrobe. Darkwing's space left untouched even as GizmoDuck moved in.

She heard heavy footsteps entering the room. From the gadget worktable she fingered a buzz saw cufflink, a Darkwing icon, and turned meet her discoverer.

"Were ya gonna' leave without saying hello to an old friend?"

He always had a deep, harsh voice even as a child. Expensive schooling had tempered it with a schoolboy English vocabulary with a touch of a Scottish accent from his adopted father he liked to use speaking with personal friends. He could turn it off and on.

Bubba McDuck. The Caveduck.

"How did you know I was here?"

Bubba tapped his nose. "Caught ya scent."

It irritated Gosalyn she could not be sure if he was serious or no. He had trained his body to a level usually reserved for monistic warrior monks but he was still just a Duck. She thought he was just a duck. Or an early ancestor to a duck. Moreover, Gosalyn suspected Bubba of having a crush on her. The idea he knew her scent so intimately sparked awkward feelings.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping at the Zoo with your pet?"

"Stegmutt is keeping Tootsie company. She has restless dreams without'ta herd member nearby. Would'ya like some help?"

"No!" She did not need help and if she did she was inclined to be too stubborn to accept it. Though, Drake Mallard and Grandpa Waddlemeyer before him did not raise a fool. If Bubba left now he might slip to GizmoDuck her presence. "How can you help me?" Gosalyn conceded.

Bubba opened Darkwing's closet and unhooked one of the many identical purple jackets. "I can sow. If you are planning on going out in public in these they could use some alterations. You're taller than Darkwing with a bust but the shoulders are same."

Did he make a reference to her chest?

His eyes moved between the jacket and her. Travelling up and down her body. Contemplating her dressed in the jacket or just as easily contemplating her undressed. The buzz saw in her hands was a comfort. If he produced a measuring tape….

"How do you know how to sow?"

Bubba shrugged. "Survival expert. I've been sowing fur into cold weather clothing since – before King Tut was born."

"Yeah?" Gosalyn stepped away from Dad's gadget bench and slammed back edge of a closed fist against a wall panel. A rack of gas grenades and a replacement launcher folded down.

"Well, I just break things."

…

"As for Morgana, well…."

"Yes?" Grizz had the inkling Gizmo had bad news to share. Inklings made him grouchy.

"She's out looking for Gosalyn. I mean – I had to tell her," he lowered his voice, "about the _other_ Gosalyn."

A soft growl emanated from the bear's throat. "Assume nothing. No way to know there _iss_, "other Goosaling," although," Grizz intended to arrange a meet tomorrow with the arresting officers of the scrap yard incident. A quiet meet away from the office least Donkey accuse him of meddling in an on-going investigation. Already, however, his instincts said Gosalyn vanilla was innocent of any – or at least of this – wrongdoing. Loath as he was to admit a misjudgement. "I open to possibility girl not involved after reading file."

"I had to say something. Poor Launchpad. He was crushed."

"Including her parents' not wise decision."

"They're in this team because they are the best. You assigned this team to capture the girl. Do I reveal to the team our target or not? All I said, "Grizzlikof thinks this girl might be from the Negaverse." Nothing about the surveilance." A deceitful spin for the sake of the parents. No, under the circumstances Grizzlikof did not mind.

"Da," yes. "Good tinking."

"Makes you wonder who else could be a Negaverse clone?" Fenton mused. "Anyway, Morgana was dead set on locating Gosalyn and bringing her home safe. They'll be no chance of directing her toward other Justice Ducks business until she does so. I don't like your chances of being able to interrogate her. Not with where Morgana can conceal her.

"One more ting," the purpose behind Grizzlikof's visit and not dragging Fenton down to his office for this chat. "The Justice Ducks no longer will be co-operating with the S.H.U.S.H. investigation into attack on Rabbit facility. Or escape of convicted felons, the Feearsome Five gang. Not unless Agent Donkey deals you in."

"You can't throw us off the case over a little staffing disagreement! The Justice Ducks defend the citizens of this nation wherever they may be…"

"Save stupid speech! _I_ thrown off case! Agent Donkey running investigation now."

"Oh. Well...," GizmoDuck could not believe it. Grizzlikof was the best. He could not imagine why S.H.U.S.H. would do such a thing. "I'm sorry to hear that Grizz, _ah_, Director Grizzlikof. I respect your integrity as a steward of the nation.

"May I ask why?" Fenton was not so sure he would receive an answer. Prideful was the bear. To be thrown off a case of this magnitude must have been a blow.

"It complicated," Grizzlikof said. Fenton was not expecting any more to his answer. Grizz protected many secrets, his opinions on others not amoung them. Fenton did feel Grizz held a low opinion of him. Any idea he might confide in Fenton as a trusted colleague seemed far fetched. His own opinion of the big guy Fenton resolved to rethink when Grizz did begin to elaborate….

…

_Earlier._

Grizzlikof remained steamed by his encounter with Agent Donkey and his secretaries continued refusal to allow him coffee! It would have been to his advantage if he had time to blow off some of that steam in the shooting gallery before meeting with the newly arrived Director Hooter but the boss bird wanted to see him now. And by Donkey's reckoning he was not happy with Grizzlikof's performance thus far. Well, neither was Grizzlikof impressed with the Director restricting him from vital files on Rabbit and appointing Donkey to take over his case and if he didn't clamp down on his fury now the consequences would be worse than could be expected from yelling at his boss. He was going to wind up in a fierce argument with his only friend.

He made a stop at the cafeteria and had a glass of water. Another glass of water. Crap, he needed coffee. But this was a spy organisation, someone would rat him out.

He fixed his tie and buttoned his suit. Fixing himself to appear professional had a record of calming his shot nerves. First and foremost Deputy Director S.H.U.S.H. Vladimir Grizzlikof was a professional and it would be un-professional to dally any longer. The Director was waiting.

He identified himself to the Director's secretary and waited patiently as she informed the Director via the intercom of his arrival.

"Director Hooter will see you now."

At Director Hooter's door Grizzlikof paused to knock. The respectful procedure Donkey should have followed entering his office.

"Come in."

J. Gander Hooter was a diminutive bird and an aged one. Now past the mandatory age of retirement according to S.H.U.S.H. regulations by several years. It was the sole instance where Grizzlikof did not mind, even encouraged, breaking with establish regulations. No one in Washington was going to remove him while F.O.W.L. imploded and endangered the world as it did so. His was the gentle guiding hand that held theirs, and the nations, during dark days.

J. Gander stood by his window in his simple office, hands clasped behind his back. No fear of a sniper despite his status as a high value target for a rogue F.O.W.L. faction looking to score points. The cursed window with its picturesque view of the street and the people they strove to protect was cause of one of the many disagreements between the pair. However, J. Gander Hooter was adamant he hid from no man. Some things were worth the risk.

"You wanted to speak with me, Direktor?"

"Vladimir. It's been too long," and J. Gander proved the joy he felt by approaching Grizzlikof and shaking his hand. A privilege of his new station of Deputy Director, Hooter addressed him by his name in private. Were a third party to be present it would be Director Grizzlikof.

"I heard you experienced a drama with Negaduck."

"I was informed you wish for me to account for how I become hostage to Neegaduck and my failure to prevent the infiltration of Rabbit?"

"Nonsense, old friend. While I fear your security team will require a swift kick I imagine you are, as per usual, being too demanding of yourself, Vladimir. I wanted to know you were alright."

"I am fine, Direktor." While J. Gander may have felt comfortable addressing Grizzlikof by name, James would always be Director to Grizz.

"This would be you're first encounter with Negaduck. He is not a pleasant fellow. I was fortunate during our crossing paths I was accompanied by Darkwing Duck. In the secure confines of S.H.U.S.H. headquarters no less!"

Grizzlikof knew the story. He had flown into a rage at the damage caused to S.H.U.S.H. H.Q. and the failure of security. Although Hooter's glad acceptance of masked fools and instructions to allow Darkwing free roam of the building were largely to blame for the security failure so he couldn't fire anyone. Only ensure there would never be a repeat.

That damn duck, Darkwing, always got in without security knowing in any case. Usually via the twice cursed window.

"I fear it would have been my end should I have encountered the vicious serpent alone," J. Gander concluded.

"Then, Direktor, if I am not under suspicion I must protest my being removed from Neegaduck's trail and Agent Donkey heading the investigation."

"I see. I feared you would. Could you state plainly your concerns so I might address them, old friend?"

"Direktor, to be removed from a case of this magnitude and replaced by agent of less rank and experience is an insult. As is my being locked out of files regarding the Rabbit facility. Further, while Agent Donkey remains one of the finest I have trained, his attitude and disregard for protocol of late is abysmal. He would prefer to pedicure his hooves than chase criminals."

Grizzlikof stood at attention as he stated these reservations, staring at a point on the wall above the Director's head. To adopt such a serious stance when it was just the two of them was telling of how strongly he felt on these issues.

"Alright. Sit down," Hooter asked his friend.

"First, you have been misinformed if you believe Agent Donkey will be heading this investigation. _I_ have taken personal interest in this case and will be heading the investigation. I signed Agent Donkey and his team on because, his insufferable bearing aside, we have no finer administrator. Yourself besides. I also hold onto hope by keeping him close he may learn some manners. More than he could if I exiled him to a consulate in a suitably stable, boring South Pacific island.

"You, Vladimir, have not as such been removed from a case as temporally promoted. I need a trusted friend to keep the rest of the world in order, I expect Negaduck to lead us quite the chase and may not have the time to attend to my usual duties. It is time for you to rub shoulders with our glorious politicians so I can sell you as my eventual replacement, I know you dislike the game," Hooter soothed. "We all do."

"Finally - I'm sorry, Vladimir. Operations at Rabbit Facility are tightly controlled; even the Deputy Director of S.H.U.S.H. does not have clearance. Unfortunately, another reason I was forced to recruit Agent Donkey. His team were stationed there briefly and are thus previously briefed."

"I do not understand. Rabbit was a stoorage facility."

"In a nutshell, Rabbit was a storage facility. Unofficially, it was something of our own Area Fifty One. Named for the story of Alice in Wonderland, being many items or technology we wanted flushed down the Rabbit Hole. We do live in strange times as I'm sure you have noted hunting a psychotic negative universe double of a friend. The idea was put forth to build a secured facility to house and study the bizarre artefacts or devices we or other branches have uncovered. Or to keep them out of reach of malicious hands. In fact, Rabbit has never been under S.H.U.S.H. jurisdiction at all. I am the Director of the facility but I've always attempted to run it as a separate organisation. S.H.U.S.H. to spy and sabotage our enemies. R.A.B.B.I.T. to bury with minimal crossover between the two agencies. Hence why you have no clearance."

J. Gander returned his attention to the window. Perhaps taking solace in how trouble free the good people wondering past outside really were. It was his sworn duty to take on the burden of their real troubles for them.

"I hate to leave you out of the loop on something of this magnitude Vladimir. Your iron diligence has seen S.H.U.S.H. through many trials and will again. I could use your help to correct a disaster on an unimaginable scale. A disaster of which Negaduck is only a consequence of and not the worst." Not a comforting idea. The closest to a defeatist comment J. Gander, an eternal optimist, ever had made. "You keep everything ordered, Vladimir. I have always appreciated your work."

"Yes, Direktor. Thank you, Direktor." It could be said J. Gander and Grizzlikof were not inclined to agree on any issue but the bear held his mentor in high esteem. His praise was humbling.

It did not erase lingering questions about the goings on of Rabbit facility. He'd have been a pathetic spy if it did. His questions multiplied tenfold when even a trusted colleague attempted to distract him with praise.

"I will also be taking Dr Sarah Bellum off your hands. Apologies. I'm inclined to be concerned about what other technology Negaduck may now possess," a concern they shared, "and she is the only mind outside of those working at R.A.B.B.I.T who could comprehend these devices. I say it is fortunate I refused her request for a transfer. Speaks well for not putting all our eggheads in one basket."

"Of course, Direktor."

"Please give Agent Donkey's subordinates the files relevant to this case without breaking any arms."

Grizzlikof sensed a pending dismissal and rose to exit. One more element to the case he wanted clarification on flashed across his brain. Not a new line of questioning, it related to the secret happenings at R.A.B.B.I.T.

"Direktor. I led to believe the Feearsome Five gang remained incaarcerated at Blackwing. No record of a transfer was filed."

"Why? Don't they constitute as weird and usual to you?" Hooter smirked. "Surely you were as appalled as I was with the security at Blackwing so during the ruckus with F.O.W.L. the decision was made to bury potential troublemakers who may inflame a troubled situation. It was a quiet thing."

Who keeps making these decisions, Grizzlikof wondered?

"Very good, Direktor. If you excuse me, seems I have files to relinquish and prepaaration's to be made."

"Yes, yes, of course," he agreed. "Vladimir…?"

"Yes, Direktor?" He was still staring out into the street and had been since the topic of R.A.B.B.I.T. had been broached.

"I was just thinking – this window. We need to do something about this window. It's far too exposed. It gives a sniper a straight shoot from three separate angles."

…

"I need learn what happen at R.A.B.B.I.T. You my eyes and ears on Neegaduck. You answer to me, understand? Not Donkey. Not J. Gander. Me. And you keep this between uss."

"You're going behind J. Gander's back? _You_?"

"What was stupid speech you said? We don't need permission to defend the rights of the people."

"You told Congress rogue vigilantism threatens society!" The collateral damage caused by the rivalry between Darkwing Duck and Taurus Bulba did not pass unnoticed in the halls of power.

"I _not_ rogue! I doing my job!"

"Alright, alright. _Blathering blatherskite_…. I'm sorry." GizmoDuck existed to apprehended bank robbers and save kittens stuck in trees. Now Grizzlikof was dragging Fenton down into a world of conspiracy and mistrust. This difficult but straightforward task of apprehending Negaduck was becoming messy job due to side considerations.

"I cannot mislead my team. I have to let Morgana know."

"No. She criminal."

"Launchpad."

"No. He idi-ot. Do not lie. You task flush Neegaduck. Most important task. Work independently or with Donkey as you must but report all to Grizzlikof. Not even mention R.A.B.B.I.T."

"Well, if I'm supposed to keep J. Gander in the dark, what am I supposed to do about the presentation?"

"Presentation, what?"

…

It was cold this pre-dawn morning. Gosalyn had her arms wrapped around Bubba's waist and was self-conscious of the fact. Half remembered promises he would never have her this close. But tonight she would not let go for anything.

Because behind the handle bars of a bike Bubba could put any boy racer to shame. He owned the deserted streets. He pulled wheelies through intersections. Took shortcuts through deserted pedestrian walkways. Coaxed more speed out of the classic motorcycle on the straights. Gos had the impression _someone_ was showing off.

She could appreciate she would not be acting different if given the chance. It was one thing to have faith in her own skills. The reckless always hesitated to put their lives in the hands of others.

"I would like to arrive alive."

"Just getting' ta know the ins and outs of the city. Smile for da camera," he nodded his head toward a speed camera up the street.

"No! I don't want my photo taken like this!"

Purple safety helmet with wings. Dad was right, the helmet does drag down coolness. Purple mask. Purple overcoat with an aqua sweater underneath. A purple cape with pink lining. White chino pants. On a bike painted with a great dinosaur maw.

Bubba did slow down, saying, "Purple is so 1994. Going ta have to be seen in it eventually."

"When _I _make my entrance."

Bubba parked with the target in sight a few blocks up the street. Studying the hanger complex and the surrounding area before initiating action. As yet the night carried their favour. Operating from a strip on the far side of the St Canard airport, itself on the outskirts of the city limits, there were few residential buildings and no traffic this night.

"There's a light on. How canna soul be working tis hour of the morning?

"Security light. Maybe?" Thinking back to her easedropping on Gizmo and Grizz, another possible explanation occured.

"Ya know the alarm code?" Bubba asked. If she did not plan B was not exactly to walk away. There were simply complications Bubba preferred to avoid. An alarm here would garner attention from airport security. All the heightened tension in today's world.

"Yep. Used to work here between expulsions."

"Security cameras?"

"Blind spots wider en' Texas."

"Well, this is _your_ area of expertise." Bubba's secession of authority did not sound complementary to Gosalyn's mind. He loosened the phoney Scottish accent to be serious a moment. "Are you sure this is how you want to begin your hero career?"

Gos shrugged. "I need the Ratcatcher."

"I know it. Just – you have considered _we are_ stealing from Launchpad."

Gosalyn ignored the question. "Go!"

Action initiated. Bubba drove up the road casually and pulled up on the gravel outside Launchpad's Happy Landings Aircraft & Auto Repair. Performing a U-turn and continuing away even as a shadow passed between him and the brush and over the fence. Only the hyper observant would notice the cycle was now minus one.

…

Time was a critical factor in restoring the Thunderquack to operational status. Negaduck could strike anytime. He could strike tonight! Keeping the imminent threat in mind, Launchpad debated the merits of taking the bird to see Gyro Gearloose, the brilliant mind behind the Gizmo-suit. His foremost invention among many. Fenton, the GizmoDuck should have no objection. Who could better recognise the advantages of to taking the Thunderquack to Duckburg to be Gizmo-ed by Gyro. Gyro was always ready to help a friend. Besides, the job customising Darkwing's Thunderquack Gyro would never pass up. In fact, Launchpad would have to stick around to ensure Gyro did not become too ambitious. In Gyro's hands it could be modified to fly to the moon. Or weighed down by so many "essential" crime-fighting devices it switched a hovercraft.

If Gyro was not an option he could at least have Honker update the computer systems in the morning. He had a car brought in three months back more computer than engine. It was flashing red lights for some dang reason. Interfacing with machine to learn the problem proved difficult, none of the crew had any clue how to read it and any time they touched the engine to observe the problem manually, more red lights activated with a danger siren to boot. Honker demonstrated them how to make heads or tails of thing. He deduced the oil cap was loose.

Even without Gyro's help, Launchpad had the heart of the Thunderquack operational. His baby could fly. Or would once he put it back together. Currently he was working on the standard extra options. Armament like the net launcher and the gas cannon. Nothing especially exotic. All the systems which he had disabled for safety concerns once the Thunderquack fell into disuse. As a responsible guardian to his best friends daughter he could not risk Gosalyn playing in the thing and punching buttons.

"It sure has been a while. We had some great times back in the day." Those were good days. Joining Darkwing's crusade to protect the people of St Canard from varied villains. A new city saving adventure every night. His responsibilities precluded the wild adventures of earlier years. The truth was he was already getting facing middle age when he started with Darkwing and prematurely aged from years serving as personal pilot to Scrooge McDuck. Those were crazy times! Partnering with Darkwing had been tame in comparison. Launchpad still had many years left in him although now he was, by relative comparison, the old man of the Justice Ducks. He hoped this old man was ready for on last desperate battle in the trenches. Facing off against Negaduck meant preparing for war.

A roar filled the hanger. Launchpad momentarily thought the Thunderquack had powered up. He was buried to his boots in the inner working of the craft, he bloody hoped it wasn't launching. Who would be messing with controls up there?

Nope. Wasn't the Thunderquack. Which left - the Ratcatcher!

The mechanised hanger door was opening.

"Ah, geez…!" Launchpad scrambled out of the belly of the aircraft, pausing only to grip a sizable wrench. Negaduck could eat it if he thought he drive off with Darkwing's prized possession. Launchpad would force it down his throat.

Negaduck was not the one he watched drive away with the bike. Not even close.

She saw his top half emerge from the Thunderquack yelling wildly and waving a blunt object. Halting suddenly confronting the spirit of his best friend in the form of his daughter.

"Sorry, Launchpad," Gosalyn called back. "St Canard _needs_ Darkwing more than ever."

He barely caught, "I promise I'll bring her back!" as Gosalyn rode out into the night.

...

Her chosen rendezvous point had a special, secret meaning she denied to share with Bubba. All Bubba knew he was to wait outside a 24hr Hippo Burger for news of success or failure. He was less than anxious. Mindful of how things may go wrong, perhaps. Gosalyn had the situation well in hand. As he had told her, this was her area of expertise.

He had expected her to be here by now.

The Ratcatcher's nose poked out of the drive through lane. Bubba, forewarned the Ratcatcher was due to appear any moment, had to look again! Customers and staff hurrying to observe.

A dozen pair of marvelling eyes followed Gosalyn as she pulled up next to Bubba in the parking lot and passed him a Hippo-shake. She had a playful air which enhanced her beauty. Tonight she had assumed an awesome burden of responsibility and had all weight lifted from her shoulders. Gosalyn was carefree for the first time since – in a long time.

She slurped on a shake of her own and with care placed a third in a hidden gadget compartment. Stuffing items around it to keep it level, preventing a spill. "I have a delivery to make. Do you mind?"

Did he have a choice? It occurred to him to complain she was late. Ask if this was the grand entrance she had envisioned. Gosalyn would do what Gosalyn would do.

"Lead the way."

The citizens of St Canard out on the street that night could not believe the sight roaring past them on the street. Overtaking them on the road. Dashing past their apartment windows. Love him or hate him (disproportionally hate him) none could deny power of Darkwing.

The last young, late night revellers determined to greet the sun sobered sighting the monster tyres. Questioning their drink, and in some cases their drugs, after the vehicle passed by.

The jaws of motorway patrol dropped catching a glimpse of the wings. They had no idea if they called it in they would believed.

Gangs members greedily sizing up an electronics store shuddered as the Duck inspired headlights passed over them in their van. They gave second thought to their plans as the terror on the night gave them a knowing shake of her head. No.

And Eek. Eek could only form one conclusion as the Ratcatcher passed the street below him. Morgana had to be informed.

The message the night clubbing youth text their friends. The report the police made to their Commissioner in person. The words the gang members used explained their cowardice to their boss.

"_He's back_!"

…

Honker tossed in his sleep. The rush of cool night air having him dig deeper under his blanket. His dreams reflected the reading he had been engrossed in before bed. Of space-time fabrics and entropy and the final end of the universe as all matter is reduced to light and time and distance cease to exist. How overpowering yet beautiful a concept. Incredible how the minds who passionately sought this knowledge did come and could only have come into being during earliest, earliest, earliest infant stages of the universe. The most exciting period of the universe when the stars still burned bright. So bright and so hot they set off the smoke alarm with a _beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep_. He hoped, when they arrived, the fire-fighters could chase off the dark-matter shadow creeping up on him.

_I'm in a dream_, Honker realised. Dream reality shattered.

If ever you have become conscious to the fact you are dreaming you will know how odd a sensation it is. When the dream reality bends the laws of possible a hint too far toward absurd the entire experience collapses. How your mind is awake yet your body is not. The purgatory between the dream world and the real, peeling away that which does not belong in the real world. Until only the real world remains.

The alarm remained. The alarm is real.

His alarm clock. Morning was upon him. He was resentful of the device for breaking his slumber. The previous night he had once again made it to bed later than he should have. Keeping his mind from other – overpowering and beautiful things.

Glasses he placed on his beak, Honker became aware of strange happenings near his window. Last night he had closed it but now it was not. A styrofoam packaged Hippo-shake had been left for him.

His eyes widened as he heard a familiar engine roar and he knew. Who left the gift. What she had done. What she was planning. He knew because he knew her. Half asleep or not he made a dash for the window. Locking eyes with _her_ an instant before she sped away in the morning glare. Witnessing the clothing she was wearing and the beast she was riding.

Leaning against the shake was a note labelled, Honker. _Pick me up around nine,_ it read.

_Wear something nice._

Not for the last time Gosalyn left Honker, the big brain, dumb.

…

"What the fuck are you wearing?"

"Ah…. A Darkwing Duck costume."

"_Why_?"

Let's be clear. She did not _need_ to tell Tank. The Darkwing connection, in fact, remained the one aspect of her life she hid from him. Not much else between them was a secret. They slept in the same bed. Tank knew Gosalyn and Honker had formed their own Darkwing Duck worshipping club and that strange happenings related to the vigilante were common in their neighbourhood. He knew Taurus Bulba was hot for the Mallards. He knew Morgana was a little off. He knew these pieces of information yet, Lord help him, Tank was not Honker. Not once had he indicated he knew Darkwing Duck and Drake Mallard were one in the same and it seemed unlikely he would make the connection between St Canard's newest heroine and Gosalyn now. With his working nights he would never have caught her sneaking out to perform heroic deeds. There was going to be no dramatic shift in her routine for him to question. She already stayed out all night, slept all morning and regularly came home with battle scars.

She did _need_ to tell him. Hiding details like being a witch or a genie or a costumed hero from those closest to you only worked in sitcoms and not very well besides. It was not fair to Tank. She could not very well make enemies of the most powerful, dangerous crime lords in the city and continue to sleep in Tank's bed without providing a heads up certain criminal elements may want to do worse than place a dead horse head next to her while they slept. She did need to tell Tank because keeping this from the sole confidant she had left in the world would drive her mentally insane. Wanting to scream all the time, "I'm Darkwing!"

"Tank. I've been thinking tonight about the state of the city and the state of my life. I decided it was time to clean up both."

"You're going back to high school?"

"No Tank. You're missing the point."

Gosalyn took his hand and led him from the doorway, removing the key and closing the door behind him. Tank she sat on the couch and curled up beside him. Apprehensive about her next words.

"My dad was Darkwing Duck.'

Tank rubbed his face. "Okay."

"Terror that flaps. He went out every night and arrested super villains. Sometimes S.H.U.S.H. would recruit him for top secret missions."

"Yeah, I get it."

"You get it? All you have to say. You get it?"

Tank did not want to put up with this shit this morning. "It seems to make sense," his voice rose with his frustration. "_Look_. Another time I might yell, "_no way_!" Be all emo. I just returned from a ten hour night shift dealing with drunken perverts. I don't care."

Bubba emerged from the bedroom wearing only his jeans, "(_cough)_. Hey," and entered the bathroom.

"_Uh_! I told you if you bring a guy home use the couch! Or don't. I told you don't bring a guy here."

"He was just here to sow the costume for me. He slept on the floor. I'm trying to tell you I know what to do with my life! I'm going to become a superhero!"

"Fine! Go get your head blown off. I'll speak at your funeral. Her lies Gosalyn Darkwing. Bitch brought a guy home to my bed and did it in a Darkwing Duck costume."

Gosalyn uncurled and stormed into the bedroom. "You're an ass!" she slammed the door.

Tank allowed his head to roll back on the couch and remained prone until Bubba emerged from the bathroom. His glare followed the unknown male as he made his way across the room and turned the knob on the bed room door.

It failed to open. Gosalyn must have locked it from the inside.

"_Hey_!" Tank yelled from the couch. "_I want to use that bed_! Geez…." The perfect end to a perfect day. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded pointedly of Bubba.


	7. Ch 7: Knightfall

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

Last time on _The Duck Knight Returns _

- Grizzlikof seeks to uncover the mysteries surrounding R.A.B.B.I.T.

- Gosalyn makes plans with Honker.

- He's Back!

Ch 7: Knightfall

"_Welcome to tonight's edition of Canard Copy: Nightline. A Special Report. I'm Spike Angle_."

"_An anxious atmosphere has settled over city. The Fearsome Five remain free but have yet to make their move. Law enforcement, despite being starved of solid leads, remain convinced Negaduck is here. As is his objective, whatever it may be. The citizens of St Canard are a resilient people. Costumed foolery, organised crime, freaks of nature and masked avengers; the population has endured every storm. When often unwanted protector, Darkwing Duck, was swept away St Canard remained strong. _

_It has been some time, however, since waves have broken against the city. Storm clouds gather but have yet to make landfall. Canard Copy has taken the pulse of the city, talking to city officials, retailers, and you. The stalwart people of St Canard. One common concern haunts those we interviewed across the board. Negaduck's uncharacteristic silence has citizens convinced whatever his plan may be, it's destructive potential will surpass all previous efforts to bring St Canard under his heel."_

A St Canard Mother:_ "I'm frightened for my family. St Canard was already a dangerous place but now…. My husband and I are talking about moving or maybe just sending the children away. I mean, the last time Darkwing Duck was loose he transformed into a super-powered titan and trashed the walls of Blackwing prison."_

Roving Reporter_: "I believe you mean Negaduck."_

Mother: _"No. The guy who drove a tank through the museum. Tried to assassinate a little girl shooting arrows. Arrow Kid." _

Roving Reporter: _"I do believe that was Negaduck."_

Mother: _"Crippled the police, S.H.U.S.H, the National Guard and cut St Canard off from the outside world with an impenetrable force field to be held at his mercy?"_

Roving Reporter: "_Also, Negaduck."_

Mother:_ "Well…. I'm not fond of him either."_

_Still, there is hope. GizmoDuck has assembled the famed Justice Ducks and vowed to thwart Negaduck once again. Meanwhile, S.H.U.S.H. has taken the lead in flushing the Fearsome Five gang. Deputy Director Grizzlikof has been cautious in statements to the media warning the task of putting Negaduck behind bars will not be achieved overnight and citing he had successfully remained hidden for almost a decade. Nevertheless, he declared the successful dismantling of F.O.W.L. and several years free of a super-villain attacks are proof the strengthened security powers of the Partridge Act, spearheaded by Director James Hooter, have worked and will be effective now_."

…

Tank was such a jerk! She could not be in the same room as him! How dense was the guy? His best friend just admitted to being a super hero! Some form of astonishment would not have been out of place. Concern for her welfare?

Why the hell was she even mad? She'd be lucky if Launchpad and Morgana were half as disinterested!

It was because Tank was a brick wall, Gosalyn decided. Not moved at all by her revelation. She'd been completely unable to convince him of her convictions. If Tank were a brick wall her guardians, her loving family, were sure to be immovable as Scrooge McDuck's purse strings. And Honker….

_What am I going tell Honker_? The unbidden thought entered her thinking. _I have to think of something to say. I have a date with him tonight!_

_He's going to ask me to stop me. _

_He cares enough to ask me to stop (unlike some Muddlefoots)._

_I want this to go right._

Honker knew her. He would know she was staging no put-on. And, length of time dependent on how crazy the scheme, he usually came around to her point of view.

He never caved on one issue. He never could accept she had no place in school even as she was barred from each one by one. Exiled from sport for overtly aggressive play or poor academic achievement killed interest. There was no place for her in the education system.

Honk was going to use his superior intellect to reason her into the ground. Until the only way she could justify her course would be to stray as far away.

Nothing for it. Her course was set. Gos needed Honker's help. It was what she wanted. She could not do this without him.

For the sake of St Canard, she would do this alone if she had.

Gosalyn kicked off her boots and crawled under the covers, still in Darkwing uniform. Her problems would seem so much smaller in the morning/late-afternoon.

One other thought gave Gosalyn butterflies.

_Is this a date? Did I ask Honker on a date?_

…

"Sir!" Agent Donkey entered Donkey's recently conferred office, "Target re-acquired. She was seen entering the Muddlefoot flat accompanied by an unidentified male. We're running facial identification now."

Donkey lost interest in the report he was skimming. Unlike his mentor, Donkey had little time for proper procedure when it interfered with efficiency. He trusted his team to know what was worth his immediate attention. "When?"

"Less than two minutes ago sir."

Donkey picked up his desk phone and clicked his fingers at Dog indicating he wanted the file in Dog's hands. Grizzlikof had left him an unexpected gift having S.H.U.S.H. resources stake out the Muddlefoot family. "Prep a team. Target is to be considered armed and dangerous. Remind the sharpshooters this young girl tore R.A.B.B.I.T. to pieces so give her no chance. If she will not come peaceably they will have a kill order. Well nip this thing in the bud before lunchtime. I'll update the Director, get the ball rolling."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Hold on…."

Donkey's fingers halted mid-dial. Rummaging through the file's contents he became aware of something peculiar.

"Is this a joke? Am I being punked?"

Dog had a fair idea why his superior may think so. "No, Sir."

Donkey studied the covert photography from outside the Muddlefoot boy's home. The figure looked like the one they were after. She had returned to the correct address. Now her outfit changed since they had lost trail over the St Canard rooftops the previous night.

Somewhere, perhaps a dinky costume shop opened in the dead of night, the target had rustled up a Darkwing Duck uniform.

…

It felt like she had barely closed her eyes when she received a rude awakening. Tank was yelling – abruptly cut off. A danger switch was tripped. The bedroom door trembled and flew open. A locked door was nothing to a witch.

"Gosalyn, honey. We need to talk."

She looked to have had as long a night as Gosalyn. Morgana winced some, unaccustomed to the morning sunlight in, and caused the blinds to close with a flick of magic. Her hair let down. _Experience_ lines showing through her make-up. Her always formal attire ruffled but still buttoned around the collar. Gos pulled the warm covers up to her neck, deprived of the warm glow. Among other reasons.

"Hey, _Mom_." The awkward term she reserved for ironically insinuating Morgana was being too controlling.

"Didn't mean to wake you." Deadpan tone saying she did not mind heavily.

"I've learned to function on minimal sleep. What are you here?"

"I came to see you. Launchpad encountered a very bold thief last night." Another flick. The covers were thrown off Gosalyn. Unveiling the uniform Gos had dropped in. "Dressed as Darkwing. She took the Ratcatcher. Still, I could hardly imagine this would be how I'd find you."

Caught fitting the description of the thief. Taking the Ratcatcher had not been the discreet operation she'd envisioned. Gosalyn momentarily feared seeing the uniform now may provoke Morgana's fury. Viewing her taking of the costume as a defilement of her Darkwing.

Or heartache, a painful reminder of the hero she loved and lost. Generating a new fear she may soon lose another Darkwing. Gosalyn was not so heartless as to wish Morgana to feel either. No, Morgana appeared to be mindful. Admiring the costume and Gosalyn in it. She strolled over to the bedside, Morgana did, and ran her hand over the shoulder of Drake's old uniform. The brass buttons of his jacket. Playing with the cufflinks at the end of sleeve and moving further to take Gosalyn's hand. Pet her feathers with gentle affection.

Gos was not sure of her reaction but was not so disappointed.

…

"This morning, GizmoDuck had a surprise phone call. A concerned child hoping to rid his block and his mother of a gang of thugs. He mentioned a very brave girl with red hair. Your heroics, I take it?"

"Is GizmoDuck going to help them?"

You did not have to be as shrewd as Morgana to see Gosalyn's intent. Her father was her idol. She had forever dreamed of being an adventurer and a hero. Perhaps taking the mantle of Darkwing Duck. Her fire had dimmed in the years after his disappearance. Events were now breathing life back into the embers. Morgana did feel pride knowing Gosalyn's true concern for others. Maybe in a few years - a decade – Gosalyn could take up the gas gun with her blessing.

First she would have to demonstrate her maturity. She had not yet. "GizmoDuck has taken Stegmutt for a meet and greet with those Vultures. A short term measure. He agrees the Justice Ducks need to do more to protect the innocent people of the Old Haunt. However, a noble deed does not excuse later misdemeanours. Your joyride through the streets."

Gos pulled her hand from Morgana's and removed herself from the bed. Instinctively putting physical distance between them to match their distance of opinion on this matter. "I was reminding this city."

"You were behaving recklessly," Morg crossed her arms. "As usual. Becoming Darkwing Duck is, outright, you're stupidest idea to date. And you've had some whoppers."

"I'm not going to stop."

"Like I'd give you a choice." With her arcane Morgana was confident she could keep Gosalyn safely locked away in Netherland if it came to that. "But I'm not here to discuss your midnight antics. Not even my kitchen. Something has come up."

"Does that something begin with, "Nega" and end in, "Duck?"

So she was not entirely ignorant to events outside her selfish life. Doubtless the spark which set off the flaming cataclysm of self-destruction. "It's a related topic. You should know Launchpad and I have re-joined the Justice Ducks."

"I had heard," Gosalyn admitted. Overhearing tidings between GizmoDuck and Grizzlikof. S.H.U.S.H. passed on intelligence to the Justice Ducks. "I have ideas to send Gizmo a CV for his consideration."

Morg stood now. Utilising her greater height. "Absolutely not! Negaduck would target you above all! There is nothing in this world or the Negaverse he hates more. You are not to confront Negaduck, Gosalyn Mallard!"

Whatever defiant retort Gosalyn was working up was interrupted by a third party.

"(cough) Hey…." Bubba waved at the door. Tiptoed cautiously into the lion's den where the Alpha female and her strong willed cub stared each other down, retrieved his clothes and retreated.

"You need to watch this," Morgana continued once the intruder had passed. She held out her palm and produced a cell phone with a zap.

"A mobile? Don't you have some sort of Chrystal ball?"

"Don't knock it. This is a _magical_ cell phone."

"Kind of an early model."

"Some of us don't _need_ internet access or a G.P.S., or a toilet flushing mechanism. Really. I don't. I learned all that at the Magical Academy."

"You have a toilet flushing spell?"

"I have an _ugly wart on your nose spell_ if you don't shut up and watch this."

Gosalyn took the phone and played the video. Looked like security footage and a fight going on. "Can I get this on the big screen?"

Morgana touched the phone so they were both in contact with it and muttered an incantation. Both ladies disappeared in a flash.

…

"_I can now reveal a source from within the Fiendish Organisation for World Larceny has come forward with a startling new account of Negaduck's sudden return."_

_The interview took place in a dark room. The informer was blotted out from head to toe. He was a shadow in the dark._

"_Good evening Spike. It is a distinct pleasure to be here." The voice of the informer had been disguised. It was clearly not his. Unless the tall individual behind the camera was a master of vocal manipulation and could mimic Peewee Herman. "A guy in my line of work, well – if I ever do meant a celebrity it's often an awkward encounter. Asking for an autograph during a blackmailing or ransom? It's not professional, get what I'm saying?_

"_You can confirm for our viewers you are a high ranking member of the Fiendish Organisation for World Larceny?"_

"_Was. Let's say my career is not expected to last longer than the airing of this interview, capiche? _

"_Why don't you tell our audience some facts about yourself? Can you tell us of your history with F.O.W.L?"_

"_Oh, I've been with F.O.W.L. since I was old enough to steal corn feed. During the glory days when the organisation was about turning a profit and power. I talked my head off the chopping block when Bulba eliminated High Command. As it would happen, we had ourselves a common arch-enemy. Although, I disagreed with the resources being directed against one duck. Even if that duck was _Darkwing Duck_. He let it get personal. One hero could never hope to have demolished F.O.W.L., though he may rumble the occasional big score. Anyways, after the S.H.U.S.H. fox was in the hen house I kept my beak down. Fell in with the current F.O.W.L. commander. Let me tell you, this guy – he is crazy. He doesn't care about profit. The only power he craves is the power of a blunt instrument cracking skulls. By the way – boss, if you're watching this – I quit you psychotic duck. Completely mental." _

"_Mr (bleeped)," Spike worked to calm his guest. Gesturing for peace with open palms. Asking his questions respectfully. "He shares a mentality with Negaduck? Does this play in to F.O.W.L. supplying Negaduck with a crack Eggman squad?"_

"_No. No, Spike – babe. You have it backward."_

…

They passed through space-time continuum to appear at the local theatre. "Bit enough screen for you?"

"Popcorn?" Never underestimate Gosalyn's brazenness.

"Oh, for heaven's sake…."

A small bag of popcorn appeared in the hands of each.

"Hit it!" Morg waved to the projection both. Everything was set up and ready to go. Eek returned an affirmative wave and passed the message on to Squeak at the controls. By the hooks on the tip of his wings, Squeak gripped the go switch with and tugged until it set on play.

Rabbit Base, the short film. Staring everyone's favourite psychopathic duck. Security footage of the attack. Armed soldiers running to cover a convoy of SUVs which had pulled in the motor pool. One of the occupants must have been injured. They set him on the ground and began CPR. He was a big bear too; it took several soldiers to lift him onto the gurney when it arrived.

Gosalyn's focus was on one of the 'suits' arrived with the convoy. The man directing operations. The man looking all too familiar. This man could be said to look every inch like her father, closer than identical twins, bar the _almost_ permanent scowl. This footage proved the madman could force his cheek muscles to contort into an approximation of a smile. Long enough to fool the elite security operatives.

It disgusted Gosalyn. His self-assured, menacing smirk etched across her father's face.

The armour plate body of SUVs shifted. What were they running under the hood? Arms. Arms very much armed. The forward area of the vehicle pulled back over, like a person might change position from prone to upright. The fearsome fighting machine had height and puncture resistant wheels extended to the four corners. The machine was a quadruped; it stood on four tires which provided propulsion and stability to the new centre of gravity.

Their firepower supressed the soldiers not already subdued by Negaduck and his disguised Eggmen. Negaduck especially enjoyed the confrontation. He sprang from opponent to opponent, chopping them across the back of their necks or tearing the soldier's weapons out of their hands and beating them with it. Using others as living shields. The glee he derived from using a fallen foe's cattle-prod on his buddies - Negaduck was in his element. Full of sadistic energy.

An Eggman passed Negaduck his yellow and red uniform from a duffel, including the black mask. Negaduck's true face. A SUV war suit targeted defensive devices such as security cameras. The show, what Negaduck wanted everyone to see, was over.

"You want to fight Negaduck? That's what you're up against."

"I've fought Negaduck. He's not as good as he _thinks_ he is," a trait he and Darkwing may have shared. "He's at his peak when you fight to his plan. I ought to know, as the Quiverwing Quack I was too eager to meet his challenge. Dad was the improviser. Dad had allies Negaduck never counted on. Surprise him, say, as Darkwing, and he's just another duck waving a chainsaw."

"You're so right. If you go out there in a Darkwing Duck costume, Negaduck will be surprised and he _will_ be swinging a chainsaw at you. _No_," Morg cut off a reply before on could be formed, "you go out there in a Darkwing Duck costume and he will reach across dimensions to gut you. Overconfidence is not Negaduck's flaw alone and _this time_ Negaduck has the unexpected on his side. Negaduck was not the one on the reel I wanted you to see."

Morg waved the projector booth again. Play the second piece.

Eek signalled Squeak to switch reels. Squeak studied the controls, the size of the reel, and studied his stubby wings.

With effort the bats played the footage timely. It was the same footage, digitally enhanced and focused on a single individual. Immediately after the convoy arrived. Before they dropped sheep's clothing. A medical unit arrived to stabilise the injured bear, Gos could now see it was Grizzlikof, relieving the young agent performing C.P.R. She glanced up, the young agent, from her duty. Long enough for a reasonably clear image. The remainder of the clip she kept her head down and she escorted Grizzlikof deeper into the facility to the medical wards.

The clip ended with Gosalyn amazed and unbelieving of what she had witnessed.

"Tell me that isn't you," Morgana asked.

"_You think it could be_?" A justifiable fierce reaction to an implied accusation which was little more than a slap in the face.

"You have a lousy record, Gosalyn Mallard, which isn't doing you any favours, but no. Not for an instant."

Did Gosalyn believe her? It was the truth. The girl's scowl remained. She seemed less inclined to take the matter to blows.

"S.H.U.S.H., however, are furious and less inclined to agree. Grizzlikof identified this - Nega-Gosalyn – as the one who captured him and induced a drug faked heart attack. Negaduck's core conspirator. Somehow she commands the combined abilities of the Fearsome Five. It wasn't Negaduck. It was she who tore apart the S.H.U.S.H.'s best defences."

Other Gosalyn can do that! Darkwing's doppelganger only dressed in alternate colours.

Gos should have been intimidated. Partially, she was. Other Gosalyn had an edge in experience with awesome abilities the combined Justice Ducks would be hard pressed to take her down. Gosalyn additionally relished the challenge. Her mind already turning on how to counter her awesome power.

Gosalyn studied other-Gosalyn on the theatre screen and did not see an incarnation of her evil self. She saw a future resident of Blackwing.

"You tell me I'm too young to fight this battle. Here you present video evidence I'm not. Negaduck has recruited his Gosalyn to fight she's the most powerful asset he has."

A conclusion Morgana had not contemplated. Trust Gosalyn to twist any logic to prove her point. Morg had the sinking feeling dissuading Gos from her path had become more difficult.

"Did you not comprehend anything I just said? S.H.U.S.H. is taking a hard line. You look just like her. I've been ordered to arrest you!"

…

Donkey entered his op centre. With his presence subordinates straightened and the very little idle chatter ceased. Officers prepared for his request on an update on the follow-through of his orders. Numerous S.H.U.S.H. personal were in town, half the organisation, but were already on assignments. Preparing for the big event. It was natural there be small delays in re-positioning them outside the Muddlefoot place. Donkey did not typically mind delays. He could be a hothead but understood limitations of practical reality.

Dog approached to outline the takedown plan he'd drawn up and give Donkey a chance to make changes as he saw fit. "The obvious sniper vantage point is this building diagonally across the street. No other building has a second story for half a block…."

"Pull them out," Donkey muttered. "Pull everyone out. Send everyone back to their original assignments. This op is canned."

His meeting with Director Hooter went that bad. And all the teams were going to be livid about the conflicting commands from H.Q. Cursing and asking, "Who is running this circus?" Beneath his grim mask Donkey must be seething. Best to remain professional and not ask.

"Leave a surveillance team in place." Hooter could not deny Donkey this bone. "Return everyone to their previous assignments down town. We need to lock down the central city ahead of tomorrow's presentation to GizmoDuck. I want to personally inspect rapid response units this afternoon. Remember, a team within five minutes reach of every inch of the city with overlapping areas of responsibility, in case the duck tries to be tricky." Donkey reaffirmed orders which had been in place for days. On a momentous occasion like tomorrow it was not enough to go over the plan once. He increased the volume of his voice, addressing the room. "Gosalyn Mallard does not exist. She was never born. The priority is City Hall and _Negaduck_. This is our first crack. Our refusal to postpone the ceremony under threat will be read as our overconfidence and/or a trap. But he _cannot_ afford not to strike.

"He's going to have a plan. We need to be innovative if we are to thwart it. Innocent lives are depending on us.

"Dog! With me."

…

_Earlier_

"…turned their wealth and power into legitimate enterprise. Reinventing their selves as respectable and untouchable. Others lord over their localised criminal kingdoms. Some have never been accounted. Chief Agent Steelbeak a prime example of the latter."

Agent Dodo was reporting on the F.O.W.L. angle as Agent Donkey entered the conference room. "Judging by the attack on R.A.B.B.I.T. one faction at least is supporting Negaduck."

"Those vehicles they used," J. Gander sifted through the report, "rearranged themselves into suits of armour."

"We've begun inquires with all branches of the military and defence contractors. So far no one claims to know who manufactured them. There has been interest in personal armoured warfare since the introduction of GizmoDuck. It's the transforming aspect which does not fit with current prototypes. It is an inefficient gimmick finding space for all those pieces."

"However, useful for a sneak attack," the Director summarised. "Thank you, Agent Dodo. I have contacts of my own. I'll browbeat some until they give me a name. Thank you and keep up the good work. If you could all excuse us."

The surrounding Agents left promptly. Agent Dodo packed his briefcase with classified documents but left his presentation articles. His aides and he would wait to retrieve them when the Director no longer needed the room.

"Grizz left us a present."

"Director Grizzlikof to you, Agent Donkey," J. Gander chided the jumpstart Agent.

"Gosalyn Mallard," Donkey placed a dossier of the target before his boss.

J. Gander studied the label of the dossier and felt his spirits drop.

Gosalyn Waddlemeyer/Mallard.

"Let me hear you say it, Agent Donkey."

"Director?"

"Director Grizzlikof. Let me hear you say it." Hooter did not miss Donkey's failure to acknowledge the reproach.

"Director Grizzlikof left us a present, sir." He managed to say the words without negative emotion colouring his words.

"Do ask yourself how we can return justice and order to the world if we cannot be civil and professional within the confines of our own office?

"This is Gosalyn Mallard. This is not the young woman we're looking for," J. Gander pronounced after flicking through Donkey's file. Handing it back.

"Sure looks like her. According to our facial recognition software she looks better than ninety percent like her."

"As I'm sure her D.N.A would be an even better match. In dealing with the Negaverse we must be careful not to assign guilt incorrectly. You know this. Why do you continue to insist on punishing an innocent party?"

"Hardly innocent. A delinquent. Expelled from every school. She lost her assigned tail last night scrambling over rooftops and frequenting rough establishments where new faces are not appreciated. Clearly up to no good."

Hooter sighed. Feeling the weight of responsibility. "To be expected. Given what happened with her father. Gosalyn Mallard is known to me. Loved ones are always being ripped from her life. Do you have no compassion for the young and unwise?"

"Director Grizzlikof himself would agree the logical next step would be to bring her in."

"The ward of two members of the Justice Ducks? We need to approach this matter more delicately than Director Grizzlikof would have us." Donkey's persistence was beginning to egg Hooter. Donkey was correct on said point; Grizzlikof would have demanded she be taken into custody, while turning J. Gander's caution for respect into a strong counter-argument. It ruffled his feathers to have a subordinate twist his words. There was a chain of command here. Even Grizzlikof would have submitted.

"Launchpad McQuack and Morgana McCawber," Donkey found the page in the girl's file. Pretending to read like as if it were a revelation to him. "Adoptive parent, _Darkwing Duck_," he emphasised the connection. Pretending to read the words not present in the file. The identity of Darkwing Duck was never officially documented by S.H.U.S.H. and remained unknown even to Grizzlikof. Donkey watched for how Hooter would reaction. The Duck was a topic unspoken between them. Or if touched on, in a more secure environment than present.

"That explains it. I guess it's a family occupation," Donkey concluded. Shifting through the Mallard file again and passing over the photo Agent Dog had given him.

"This snap was taken outside Muddlefoot's flat not more than fifteen minutes ago."

J. Gander spent a long moment studying this latest photo. The one of Gosalyn Mallard, the Darkwing Duck. How his rusty old gears were churning, Donkey could not be sure. He was quiet too long. Breathing shallow and only moving to adjust his glasses or move the photo further or closer to his aged eyes.

"Call off all of your assets, Agent Donkey. Gosalyn Mallard remains free."

"Sir. I feel the situation, being complex as it is…."

"No, Agent Donkey. We just won this war."

…

_Hooter was chuffed. "You don't see it, do you Agent Donkey? This is Negaduck's greatest fear come true." With wonder he breathed, "Darkwing Duck Returns." _

"_How do you intend to explain the existence of two Gosalyn Waddlemeyers' to the oversight committee?"_

Donkey waited for the security of his office to address Agent Dog with his concerns.

"The Director has directed_ us_ to leave Gosalyn Mallard in play."

A sentiment Dog sensed Donkey did not agree with. Knowing the full scale of this thing same as Donkey and Hooter, Dog was not much pleased with the return of Darkwing Duck. He said nothing.

"Hooter's too old for this game. He's past the mandatory retirement age. He can't lord over S.H.U.S.H. forever. I won't allow a silly girl in a purple fashion disaster ruin my triumph over Negaduck and my shot at the big chair! You – deal with her."

…

"_F.O.W.L. command detests Negaduck. F.O.W.L. dumped Duck where they believed he could never trouble them again. _I_ have been supplying Negaduck. Personnel, information, equipment; on the sly, ah-ah-ah." the shadow chuckled and tapped his beak._

_Spike remained sceptical. "_You_ claim to have masterminded Negaduck's reappearance?"_

"_Spike, the masterminds are the villains at S.H.U.S.H. and F.O.W.L. who want to control everything they see. I released a wild card. Equipped him and intend now to stay the _hell_ out of his way. You watch carefully, Spike. Duck? He is my boy! He is going tear down the walls of this secret war and the roof and the doors and the sink and everything, ah, ah, ah! When S.H.U.S.H. and F.O.W.L. are laid bare you will see you have the wrong villain. James Gander Hooter. You watch Spike."_

…

"_Arrest me_!" It was an outrage on top of outrage!

"Yesterday, Grizzlikof ordered GizmoDuck to bring you in. For his part, Gizmo is stalling. Trying to convince Grizzlikof _that," _the Gosalyn on screen," could not possibly be you."

The Justice Ducks were to _arrest her_! Her friends and family for a crime she took no part in by a man she was determined to thwart! Anger was broken by disbelief. She'd been in the superhero business a night and already she was public enemy number two.

"Oh, don't look so disturbed. I'm certainly not going to arrest you before you're date with Honker."

Morgana took Gosalyn by the hand and they return teleported to Tank's place. His bedroom.

"It's not…," or was it? "How could _you_ know that?" More than upon seeing her Negaverse double, Gosalyn was flustered and defensive. Her relationship with Honker, whatever it may be, was her personal business. Morgana kept belting her with sucker punches.

"The Justice Ducks are a team, Gosalyn."

Gos yelled as loud as she could.

"_Traitor_!"

"_Had ta do it_!" he called his reply from the living room. Bubba the cave duck. Bubba the Justice Duck.

"Bubba did you a favour contacting me. He was under orders to arrest you, too. When Eek told me who had was tearing around in the Ratcatcher _I _was ready to drop you in space-time bubble but he talked me out of it. Temporarily. Besides which, I have my own spies." Morgana's third magical familiar, Archie the spider, spun a line from the ceiling down to her palm. He knew from his mistress's pleased aura he had done a good job.

"You'll have to talk to Grizzlikof eventually. For now, he's letting off the pressure. Get some sleep," Morgana advised. "We can discuss your daft heroic delusions tomorrow." Appraising Gosalyn again, a wicked idea came to mind. "I'll come back later this evening and we do something with your hair. Find you a nice dress. If I left it to you, you'll meet Honker at the door in a hockey jersey and torn jeans."

Responsibility had not dulled Morg's mischievous edge. Pushing Gosalyn's buttons was exceedingly easy, bring up any feminine activity. Morg did want Gosalyn's night with Honker to be wonderful and suspected Gosalyn's hostility toward grooming would waver against a desire to be presentable tonight. Foundations for a bridge?

"No one asked your opinion and if I leave it to you I'll resemble a corpse bride." Exasperated, but lacking true venom. Morgana hoped this meant she was not entirely opposed to the idea.

"We'll compromise then. I won't pick your wardrobe if you don't. Let's talk to Binkie…."

A flat, "No."

"Who would you suggest?"

Gosalyn was far from happy she was being talked into this. "Tank?" Morgana added for satire. The witch was enjoying this. Excepting, Gosalyn felt an inner obligation to make an effort for Honker, not a joy but an onerous chore undertaken on the promise Honker is worth the torture. She should be thankful being a feathered creature waxing was not an issue.

Morgana was mistaken. Tank was not her only option. Maru came to mind. Although, giving over the keys to her wardrobe to Maru was inherently dangerous. With her keen fashion sense, shopping with Maru could be more arduous than leaving her fate in Morgana's hands.

"Should I be leaving the house with S.H.U.S.H. looking for me?"

"For my little girl's first date I'm willing take a risk," it wasn't her neck at risk. She walked elegantly from the room. Swaying her hips. Gosalyn followed, knowing she couldn't walk like that. Hating that further example of how much more of a woman Morgana was. "Honker's worth a little danger."

In the living room, Tank was suspended upside down in mid-air by an invisible hand. He waved his arms frantically to keep Morgana's harassing bats at bay. He operated his vocal cords repeatable but never made a sound. Morgana had desired a quiet talk with Gosalyn.

"_Don't_ go outside wearing that," the Darkwing costume, "and don't touch the Ratcatcher. We'll discuss your future later. I do want to see you take up your father's mantle. But not now. Not against Negaduck."

"I told you to call," Morgana said aside to Tank. A gesture and he was flat on the floor. Another arm gesture and she was gone. Out of sight. Her familiars as well.

"I thou't she sounded reasonable," Bubba interjected. Gosalyn glared her betrayer. Tank threw his shoe.

"Right. I'm going to bed," Tank declared. "_My _bed!"

She had informed Tank of the Darkwing scheme and stormed out less than– she checked the clock – just over an hour. She could not have had more than a light nap and a snore before Morgana entered, fire and brimstone. "I'll join you."

They left Bubba to his own devices. "I'll let myself ouut."

…

Honker did not know what to expect tonight. Could childhood friends patch a growing rift? More likely they would they butt heads, this time over her Darkwing stunt. He could try to be diplomatic and have Gos accuse him of paying lip service. An argument will develop where together they would seem to be arguing one issue but Honker knew the true argument was on a whole other level; only Gosalyn knew what the hell that second level was.

Honker did not know what to expect but Gosalyn answering Tank's door in a _smokin_' dress with her hair done up must have been the furthest single thing.

"_My hero_. Rescue me!"

"Smile Bro." Tank was playing with his favourite toy. Camcorder trained on Honker. Damn, now there was video evidence of how his jaw dropped. She was stunning! The very idea of Gosalyn wearing a dress is stunning - she looked magnificent!

"We _need_ to go." Gosalyn insisted, taking Honker's arm. However, an irresistible force, and Gosalyn _did_ resist, drew them both back into the flat. Inside the door, Honk could see Morgana and Launchpad were present. And a green feathered girl he did not recognise and took for a friend of Tanks.

"Not so fast," Morgana commanded. "I want photos."

Launchpad obliged. Snapping off shots. "No! Launchpad! No!" Gos buried her face in her elbow. "Why are you even in my flat?"

"Morg tipped me off. I owe you for the Ratcatcher. So _squirm_!"

"Take your hands down," Morg told her. Maru was also taking some snaps also. "You look gorgeous."

"If I look gorgeous, I blame you!"

"I don't hear Honker complaining." Honker was beyond words. He had wondered off the edge of the world. Here there be strange happenings. "Yeah... Yeah, you look - _great_. I didn't realise…. When you said wear something nice…."

His casual dark green shirt, sleeveless sweater and chinos were not in her league. He regretted not grabbing a tie. He had thought about a tie! He decided Gosalyn needed spontaneity and adventure. A tie is the_ antithesis_ of spontaneity.

"You look fine," Gosalyn assured. He always did.

"I'm Maru," making to shake Honk's hand but giving him a hug instead. "We work together," she indicated Gosalyn, "I've wanted to meet you since _forever_! Gosalyn always makes googly eyes when she talks about you." Gosalyn had evil eyes now.

Gosalyn did give way. Allowed Launchpad his photo record photo record of this historic moment. Submitted to a few poses with Honker, even made to look like she was enjoying the attention as the photographers gave suggestions. Honker, squeeze in closer to Gosalyn. Holds hands. How about a kiss?

"Alright! Enough!" Gos yanked Honker toward the door to spare them any more embarrassment.

"No tongue on the first date!" Morgana called. You could practically hear her, "_uh,_" down the stairwell. Launchpad had a good chuckle. He was the number one fan of the pair.

"It's about time those kids patched things up! I'm going to frame this photo above the mantle. And another one in the hall. Put it on Christmas cards. And Facebook."

"You did a great job Maru. I can't imagine Gosalyn made it easy. I don't ever remember her in a dress. I'm Launchpad…."

For Morgana the afternoon had been a triumph. Spending time with Gosalyn, not arguing the _entire_ time. Over heels or sneakers if they were (sneakers, Gosalyn could only be pushed so far). Having Maru to referee. Morg had underestimated the friends Gosalyn was capable of making. Thinking them, well, Tank.

Showing off the fruits of their labour to the gobsmacked men, Launchpad and Honker after. Behaving like a normal family. The ravine closed a little today. Morgana had faith her family was going to be alright. She hugged her good friend took a look at his snaps. "Do you have a Facebook account?"

"The shop website then. So all the clients can see why I'm singing."

"Yeah," Tank agreed. "It was almost worth letting you girl up my flat all afternoon…. Get out."

Screams were background fuzz. Honker absorbed every detail of Gosalyn. So distracted he never thought to play the gentleman's role of opening her door, she did not expect it of him, or his own door even. Mesmerised until she slipped into the passenger side of his parents Ford and he recalled he should probably get in as well.

Her fiery hair, cut to earlobe length and typically left to fall and tangle as it would, now held a silky glow. The hairline started at the ears lobe and reduced toward the back, like Victoria Beaklamb. The longest strands, on the left side of her face straddling her eye, had been curled. The dress was a lush purple. Extending down to her ankles. Cut to tempt eyes with her thigh. Straps, a supportive, high v neck front but _low_ back. Honk thought of how smooth it must feel to run his finger down his friend's spine and hated himself for it.

Lace sleeves with spiders and spider-web designs. He began to see Morgana's influence. Jewelled, bat earrings. Little things, not to draw attention. Subtle for a witch.

All of it bizarre. This was _not_ Gosalyn as he knew her. It was difficult to fathom. Wholly wrong. Torn work jeans, playing football in the mud he Gosalyn he could contend with. Gosalyn in a dress is a whole new beast. And was she in a dress for him?

"Want to go bowling or should we eat first?"

Gosalyn in a dress is still Gosalyn apparently. Relief flooded his veins like a drug. He hit the blinkers and pulled out into traffic. "I made reservations at place called _The Last Post, _in the historic post office_. _Shame not to eat at the world famous _Shadow Château_, but I thought Morgana standing over us all night would be a buzz kill."

"I know a club after. _Morgana_ has more effective means of spying. Listen up," Gos addressed the empty back seat. "I have bug spray and I'm not afraid to use it. Come out now if your there or the car gets a dosing!"

Insect life from every nook in the car surrendered.

…

"_When you contacted us you said you had information on Negaduck's plans. Can you elaborate for the people at home? Where has he been and what are his goals now he returned?"_

"_Spike, I have no information you would believe. I would think less of you, as a reporter, if you were not sceptical on behalf of your audience. In a world where secret underground lairs are made to fly, I require good faith I tell this tale truthfully. _

"_First, Rabbit was no jail for the super powered. It was Hooter's personal Area 51. Dedicated to the study of weird mechanics and artefacts confiscated from F.O.W.L., or others. Among the many weird and otherworldly items studied at Rabbit, the most significant to this tale was the Negagate. A gateway to the alternate Negaverse. Home to Negaduck. Discoverer of the portal. This is a world much like our own, in complete reverse. You may have counterpart there Spike, his personality and morals reversed. Like the negative of a photo. _

"_When S.H.U.S.H. opened this gate the first time they failed to appreciate this fact. They confused enemies with allies and sparked a civil war which continues today and which, despite all efforts, S.H.U.S.H. remains unable to disengage from as long as a threat remains to our world. They were not alone in their arrogance. Falling apart under Bulba, the F.O.W.L. faithful viewed the Negaverse as a pool of new recruits."_

"_You are correct. This is a difficult tale to fathom." Spike was at least diplomatic in his disbelief._

"_The expert on all things portals and Negaverse was Negaduck and a mutual aid partnership was formed. F.O.W.L. would have their recruits and S.H.U.S.H. would be removed from his war."_

_Spike Angle had no prepared response to the shadow's outrageous claim. If the F.O.W.L. informant had given previous indications as to the nature of information it had not followed this line._

"_Overstretched fighting here and in the Negaverse, J. Gander played his final card. Darkwing Duck was dispatched to shut down the F.O.W.L. gate. At great personal risk, Darkwing infiltrated F.O.W.L. Fought off Negaduck and shut down the gate. And then I killed him."_

…

_Grainy, black and white security footage. Low tech to the point it could not plausibly have been F.O.W.L. tech. The organisation had a record for producing top notch gadgets. This was during a time, however, where F.O.W.L. fortunes had taken a dive._

_The security footage was trained on a ring device. The centre a cauldron of violent activity. An evil eye of crimson glow. Electrical storms dancing across the device necessitating surge protection. The passage to the Negaverse was a fearsome one. _

_The figure of Negaduck revved his wielding his chainsaw and lunged for an opponent off screen. The majority of the battle had not been caught by the tape. No sound. It was only evident a scuffle continued whenever a nut rolled past or the spark of an electrical wire. Items were being trashed off screen._

_Negaduck returned to view, staggering back. Coughing violently. Difficulty drawing breath. A haze cloud around him. _

_Darkwing made his move, charging into the frame. He grabbed Neg's chainsaw arm with both hands and forced it back. Back to connect with the cursed portal ring. It's sharpened chain biting into the Negagate. How much damaged Dark achieved was not clear. The ring was of solid construction but many wires and components were fixed along the outside. It was a piecemeal contraption._

_Negaduck fought back. Placed his free arm against Dark's beak and tried to push him off. He raised a foot against Dark's chest really pushed him off. Dark tried again, rushing. He gripped Negaduck's chainsaw arm and hammered it. Hammer it against a guardrail. Hammer, hammer, hammer until the chainsaw dropped. _

_Negaduck retaliated with a backhand across Dark's face. _

_Dark accepted the blow. Hit back with an attempted blow to the gut. _

_Negaduck pinned the blow under his elbow. Locking Darkwing's arm. He went for an eye gouge but the arm he used was on the sluggish side after the hammering. Dark caught it. The fight became a vicious grapple. Beak to beak, landing blows where they could. Utilising fists, elbows and knees. _

_Darkwing used the gas gun. Firing a tear gas canister point blank in Negaduck's kidneys. The blocky canister did not penetrate as a bullet does although you don't laugh off a grenade 'brick' fired out a gas power cannon. Internal bleeding a certainty. He was going to need a doctor._

_The tear gas disoriented Negaduck further and a blow to the head with the butt of the gun laid him out. _

_Darkwing was doing better. He was still standing. A cloud of tear gas in his face, he was not feeling great. Stumble, he did, to the Negagate controls and supported himself against it. He had one advantage over Negaduck in he knew what was coming. Held his breath but needed to keep one eye open to deliver the knock-out blow. He had tubes of counter-agents in his kit. He squeezed the discomforting liquid, not as discomforting as tear gas, into his eyes. Continually blinking to clean his eyes._

_The portal was his target. F.O.W.L. could rebuild but this would buy J. Gander breathing space. He tore into the panels and wiring, looking for components matching the descriptions of Dr Sarah Bellum. Vital components to target. _

_What actions he was taking to disrupt or destroy them was not clear on the recording. Placing items, his cufflinks, inside the heart of the device. Probable they were disguised explosives._

Flash. _A violent bark of light._

Flash.

_Something occurred on the lower portion of the screen._

_Darkwing stumbled. He was down on one knee. Forehead and cheek flat against the control box. But he would not, could not, remain down._

_The newcomer came forward. The top portion of his body became visible. The spine of his classy, white morning jacket. His head set of attentively groomed long red comb where other species may have hair. He was a uniquely tall bird._

_He approached Darkwing. Cautious. The 9mm in his outstretched arm. Lowered to a forty-five degree angle. Bobbing his head, unsure if his opponent was truly subdued._

_Movement. The Gas Gun was out. Rising._

_Rising._

Flash.

…

The recording ended. Grizzlikof set down the I-Pad and slid it back across the table to his contact.

"So. Chicken does not clucking for T.V. Darrkwing Duck is dead."

"Grizz, I'm hurt. Have you even known me to tell a lie?"

"Yees."

"But not to you!"

Steelbeak had lost none of his class. The fantastic suits. The oily wit. The women on each arm when he came in, now waiting nearby as the spies talked secrets. Out of place in the dilapidated bar where Grizzlikof chose for a face to face meet and greet.

The kind of joint which reminded him of his youth in red Leningrad. Through his agent training, Grizz knew better to frequent any one place and establish a pattern. This one was one in of a number he had cultivated. Learning every exit and expected faces which ways. Which items on the menu to order and which would give him the squats.

Were the women more than escorts? Perhaps. They kept looking over. Grizz had his own protection on hand.

"No. Neyver lie. Always too eager to gloat. That your probleem, Steelbeak. Try the Fish Pie."

"What are you having?"

"The Fish Pie."

"Waitress," Steelbeak signalled with an a hundred bill. Two jostled each other for the right to serve him. "I'll have whatever he's having."

"One Bacon & Egg Pie."

"You can't help but double cross me," Steel accused. Referring to Grizzlikof's short career as an F.O.W.L. Agent.

"Triple cross, chicken. Neyver I left the service of S.H.U.S.H. I cannot betray that which I have no loyalty for. Now I to believe you betray F.O.W.L?"

"You said it, bear. Betrayal assumes loyalty in the first case. I was never loyal to the new bird."

"You're word I take? I tink not."

"Alright Grizz, you got me. Let's do this thing by the book. I, your prisoner, will allow you to lead me, unresisting, to the S.H.U.S.H. interrogation room. Where everything I have to tell you can be properly recorded and filed and the i's dotted…."

The chicken need not fear. They both knew Grizzlikof would not endanger his investigation by involving S.H.U.S.H.

"Circumstance dictates I trust. Though, maybe following chicken leads Grizzlikof to F.O.W.L. torture chamber? What if chicken has long memory for crossing? Why does not chicken cross Grizzlikof?"

Steelbeak played t it frank. He relaxed on his side of the booth. Put his feet up. "Nothing I can say will satisfy your doubts, and I won't guarantee your safety. You want answers; you have to cross to my side of the road. Come on, Grizz. See how deep the Rabbit Hole goes."

Grizz ordered earlier so his pie arrived first. Conversation cooled with the waitress present. Grizz took a bite of his pie and chewed slowly. When he gulped the chewed mouthful down he said, "You admit workin'k for Neegaduck?"

"Hand in hand. Won't deny it."

Another mouthful. "You know where is?"

Steelbeak was non-committal. "I know how to contact. You'll meet him in time. You're the only one in a position to oust Hooter from office. Duck is anxious you to talk with you again and provide a first-hand account of S.H.U.S.H. intervention in the Negaverse. But first, you and I have business to attend to."

"Business?" Not likely.

"Business. See, first _we," _waging finger indicating them both, "infiltrate R.A.B.B.I.T. recovery operation off the coast. Then, you hit close to the mark here, I _am_ taking you to F.O.W.L. command. It's time you saw the face of your enemy."


	8. Ch 8: Date Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

* * *

Ch 8: Date Night

Heads turned. Some to admire. Some to desire. Gosalyn knew – she had to notice, Honker decided. _Miss Darkwing _had powers of observation enough to see the obvious. As he could observe her body language. The way she trailed behind the waitress guiding them to their table. Using Honker as cover to shield curious eyes. The young man thought it comical. He'd only ever known Gosalyn to be fearless; she could have walked through the same sophisticated crowd drawing stares in protective hockey pads or torn jeans and held her tough guy confidence. Stood tall and proud. Instead the dress Maru loaned her, which supplied a very good view of in her supple lower back, left her feeling naked – as the figure of speech goes.

She pulled out her own chair, saving Honk the mental debate of whether to be a gentleman. The waitress informed the pair of today's specials and asked for drink orders. Soft drinks, being underage, and moved on to seat another couple. Leaving Honker alone with Gosalyn to decide on their meal and catch up on time apart.

If Honk could convince Gosalyn to pull her hidden beak out from the menu. "I feel like I'm skating onto the ice before the big game. Bleaches full with an expectant crowd."

"You don't get anxious before a hockey match," Honk cited.

"No. I guess not. But I imagine this to be that feeling."

"Is it that you've turned every head in this room with that stunning dress?" Honker asked slyly, "Or being here with me?"

"What do you mean?" She hoped he was not somehow implying she felt somehow ashamed to be in Honker's company. Or regretting being here with him. She asked him out!

She was wearing a dress for him!

"It's been a while. You. Me. Talking."

"We talk. We talked yesterday morning." Where she had refused to even face him and let him speak to the back of her head.

"Not the same. Why now? Did putting on the costume really change how you feel about me overnight?"

Pull no punches, Honker. Perceptive question.

Gosalyn had not been terrible to her erstwhile best friend in the past year, she knew. She could not have helped it. How could Honker be criticised for judging she was anything but reluctant to be hanging out socially together? An outsider would find it inconceivable they'd been friends at all. Whenever the pair was together she felt a wave of resentment toward him. Any time they were apart the regret was worse. Until she feared one day Honker would loath to talk to her at all and the only feelings she held for him would be ones of pain.

"Yes. Putting it on felt like I was me again. I knew what I had to do. Setting things right with my old partner top of the list."

Honker did not respond. He silently contemplated. Leaning his head to one side in a 'tell me more' gesture. Denying any sign her words had penetrated that big brain of his. What was he waiting for, an apology? Could he not see what she was trying to put across? That he could be so dense to her feelings was what drove this wedge between them.

"On second thought, I do know this – anxiety, was it? - feeling. Meeting prospective parents in the adoption agency. Soaring hope you knew could turn false."

"I promise tonight I'll take you home," Honker reassured her, dropping his pathetic, though still good enough to fool an uneasy Gosalyn, stoic act and Gosalyn realised he was genuinely pleased to have her back. "It would be a shame to ruin that dress walking."

And she was genuinely pleased to be back. "The dress, the dress. You wouldn't feel bad leaving _me_ to walk?"

"Since you bring up the dress, how did Morgana coax you into wearing one?"

"It belongs to Maru. I fought tooth and nail against everything Morgana suggested all afternoon. Maru was our honest broker. It looks better on her, with those green feathers."

"You submitted to a girl's day out? Serious?"

"You didn't imagine I woke up in this dress? It wasn't bad though. Clothes shopping _was_ that bad. Having Maru style my hair was…. It was nice. Until she admitted I was her first model."

They jumped back into small talk like old times. Like no freeze in their friendship had ever occurred. The rhythm which existed between them previously went tone deaf with disuse. So long as they were talking. It was all Gosalyn could ask for.

The small talk did level off for a time. There was only one topic on their minds and it was not the appetisers. The return of Darkwing Duck. Strangely, Honker was delaying broaching the topic. He must have something he wanted to ask or say! The waitress arrived with their soda and took their meal order and Gosalyn took a different path to allow Honk to open up to her.

"So. A collage man, finally! What can they teach a brain like you? Or are you teaching them?"

"Are - you positive you want to talk about school?"

School was a taboo subject. Severe consequences inevitably followed suggestion Gosalyn should return to school. She was reactionary on the subject. If you brought it up, she reacted. In asking about Honker's move to college, Gosalyn inadvertently created an impasse in which Honker felt the need to close off least he offend. She did not want him to close off.

"I don't want to talk about school. I want to talk about you, dummy. I'd have thought they would have accepted you a few years earlier. The youngest college graduate of SCCU history!"

Honk displayed mock horror. "And give up the baseball team?" momentarily lapse in judgement as Gosalyn had been dismissed from the baseball team. The same as every other team making it as dismal discussion point to bring up as school. He breathed an inner sigh of relief when she simply teased him, saying, "Honk, I never told you this but you're lousy at baseball. You hate baseball."

"I hated Tank as team captain," Honker defined. His older brother had never given up an opportunity to give Honker a hard time whilst growing up. It was the single motivating factor in his brother's life. "Never said I hated baseball."

"Maybe you never used the word hate…," Gosalyn admitted.

"I guess over the years I remember only the good times in baseball. Like you carrying us to victory on your ricochet rocket. Thinking back, I remember your home runs more clearly than mine."

Being banned from all school sporting events for un-sportswoman like behaviour, Gosalyn typically despised reminders of the, "_good ol' days_". This evening, with Honk, she decided to accept a trip down memory lane in the spirit it was given. There was wistfulness to his recollection of events. Apparently Honker missed those innocent days as well.

"Honk, you never scored a home run. You hardly ever hit the ball. If you did, it was thrown by a machine and you'd pre-calculated the trajectory."

"I did not," cocky smile saying otherwise.

She insisted. "College! Tell!"

"I was invited to assist my lecturer's in his latest research thesis," he finally decided to tell her. "He's attempting to prove the existence of alternate universes by replicating Elmo Sputterspark's rumoured stable division of positron and negatrons. Truthfully, I was invited because I was the only one on campus who believed his theory. Otherwise – he has tenure; the board can't get rid of him."

"Owh! No tales of block parties and teenage girls for Mr Smarty-pants?" Not that Gosalyn minded. "Did you inform him of your role in the true events surrounding Megavolt's Tron Splitter?" Their first encounter with the original Negaduck, sparking the reoccurring incursion into this world by the Negaverse Negaduck.

Then his smile left him and he played with his soda. Running his finger around the rim of the glass.

"I saw on the news. Negaduck has finally returned."

"I saw it too," Gosalyn confirmed.

"You know, you've started an urban legend on campus. "_The Negaduck threatens St Canard_. _The Duck Knight has returned_."

They came at last to the topic on everyone's mind. He had to talk quiet, so his voice did not travel. The ambient noise of a busy restaurant covered his words.

"It's more than myth!" Gosalyn determined to make it so. "Soon, everyone is going to know Darkwing is back. People don't have to be afraid anymore. Unless you're a bad guy."

"Going to clean up the streets all on your own, are you?"

A tall order for a solitary duckling, he was suggesting. He could not realise Gosalyn had been considering the same before she pulled up to order a pair of Hippo shakes.

"Now you mention it, I could use a trusted sidekick. The candidate must be brave and true. Able to keep a secret. It's not a prerequisite but looking handsome in that sweater doesn't hurt…," eyeballing his casual attire. She let the offer hang in air. Not daring to say more.

"The last time I played sidekick we were nine. You trapped me in a net and ran away to confront Negaduck. How did that turn out, by the way?"

Not well. "Believe me, any invitation to a mano o' mano grudge match from Negaduck, I'm tipping GizmoDuck and taking the night off."

"You will encounter Negaduck eventually. Patrol St Canard as Darkwing and it's a certainty, Negaduck will arrange an introduction. You can bet the newly freed Fearsome Five will be hiding under his cape. You can't think you can take them all on. I told you Negaduck was too much then and you didn't listen. Are you listening now?"

Gosalyn was cross. She crossed her arms to prove it. Effort to restrain voices to the crowd in the restaurant eased. She spoke at a normal level and damn anyone who snooped on their conversation. "I'm listening. I'm listening and hearing a lot of, "can'ts" and, "won'ts". As long as people can't and won't this city will stay a toilet."

"St Canard has a hero. Several heroes," Honker argued. "GizmoDuck and the Justice Ducks. Hooter has F.O.W.L. demolished. He's expanding S.H.U.S.H. jurisdiction to clean up domestic crime. Professional agents with training, experience and recognised authority."

"Not the same down in the old haunt. Hooter's can crack down foreign dictators or Pink Floyd St anarchists all he likes. I'm talking about the wider problem. The city hasn't been the same since Darkwing – left."

Gosalyn pleaded with Honker one last time. Because if he best friend didn't believe in her…. "Honk…. I need you. I can't do this without you."

"You're going to have to find a way. I've thought about this moment since you left me a Hippo shake and invited me out tonight. And all day I've been turning over and over in my head when you asked, how I could possible tell you this. I want to be there for you. I'd lay everything on the line for you. Think. Boil it down to the bare facts. There is no future in bounding over rooftops for me. Nursing bruised knuckles isn't a career path. I'm not afraid. I have more to offer on the path I'm on, completing my PhD. I'm where I want to be. It's not selfish. It's an efficient allocation of resources."

"No. You're right. It's not selfish." Crushed as she may be, Gosalyn did not fault her friend, or was trying very hard not to fault her friend, for his choice. Every word he said was true.

Feeling bad she wasn't as smart as Honker, by no means the first time he had made her feel inadequate beside him. Perhaps that why she avoided him. She took the role of Darkwing because she was good for nothing else.

"Please don't go," Honk asked, citing the poor argument, "These tables were difficult to get on short notice." Then his reasons for wanting her to stay. "I want to have a night out with Gosalyn. Not Darkwing. Gosalyn. My friend. I don't want us to end like this; I want to see you again."

"I won't," go, she meant to say. Though staying made her feel embarrassed she had been turned down.

With the deepest sincerity, he told her, "I am so sorry."

She may never see his cute tail feathers in tights. As long as they were here, experiencing this awkward moment together she might as well utilise his brain.

"I want to ask you something. Or tell you something. I want to tell you something and hear what you think."

Once he accentuated with a nod, "Morgana played a video of the Negaduck attack. I was me. Working for Negaduck. A Nega-me."

"A Nega-you? A Negaverse you?

"Nega-Gosalyn. She had the abilities of the entire Fearsome Five. Megavolt, Liquidator, Bushroot, Quackerjack. And she moved like Negaduck. I can't imagine how."

"Darkwing said Negaduck came from a Negaverse. I never knew what to make of it. I suppose if there is a Nega-Darkwing and a Nega-Gosalyn then there must be a Nega-Honker."

"He's probably good at sports."

"Nega-Gosalyn and Nega-Honker together must be the baddest two kids in the world."

Please God, Gosalyn did not wish to fight a Nega-Honker. "Any ideas?"

"I'm wondering how many more negatives Negaduck has backing him up, and where are they? He had the opportunity to recruit a population of evil negatives."

"Not inspiring confidence, Honker."

There was that one adventure…. "She wasn't holding that crystal Negaduck used to gain the Fearsome Fives powers?"

Shrug.

"I'll give the matter some thought - as to how to counter her. Until then, your best bet is the knock her out of a fight before she can use those abilities against you."

…

Honker was instructed to pull up a block downwind of Tanks apartment. No telling when Mr Edmund, the landlord, may be sniffing out Tank's visitors. Enforcing his strict tenancy rulings.

"Again? Sometime?" Gos floated, reluctant to end the night by getting out of the car though uncertain of herself, him, together in this scenario. The awkward goodbye proceeding a successful night of dinner and dancing at Maru's club (before being recognised as minors and asked to leave the premises.

"I won't ask you again to turn in the cape and come back to school. I have to ask – every time I offered, why did you never let me help you?"

Truthfully, she held high hopes Honk had already figured that part out. "I didn't want a tutor, Honk. I wanted you."

"I think I see that now." Months of analysing the postscript of their splintering friendship had planted the one dubious rationale in his mind. He could kick himself for the lost time after misinterpreting how Gosalyn saw their relationship. "For someone so smart, I guess I can be pretty dense, huh?"

Yes. Yes, you are. "Goodnight, Honk"

Awkward moment upon them. Lean in for a - you know. A kiss?

Handshake. Handshakes work too. She offered him hers and he took it.

"Night, Gosalyn."

…

Tank had two nights off a week. Never the weekend. Not solely the strip club. He applied the trade of breaking heads up and down the old haunt. Working contract. His own boss. This night he choose to spend enjoying a full night of sleep such as those lofty, high class blue collar nine to five workers enjoyed.

"How was it?"

She would usually fall in to bed no matter what her attire. Gosalyn didn't want to get Maru's beautiful dress crumpled.

"Move over and give some blanket," she ordered after removing Maru's dress and digging out a t-shirt from her washing pile. Tank grudgingly obliged.

"Tank? Will you be my sidekick?"

"I thought I already was."

Good enough for Gosalyn. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Disturbed by a shifting body under the blanket beside her.

"How much does it pay?"

…

Mid-afternoon. St Canard City Plaza. Uniformed police closed the roads, restricting the area to pedestrian traffic. The blight of Pink Floyd Street protestors efficiently removed. The streets spotless and spit-shined. Snipers lined the rooftops. Anyone entering the area passed through metal detectors. Crowds gathered in their thousands hoping for a glimpse. The most heroic duck in all the world would be making an appearance today.

Today was meant as a show of solidarity between the GizmoDuck and S.H.U.S.H. Recognition of his tireless pursuit of justice and how the authorities appreciated his efforts. A special gift symbolising that relationship had been promised which the world was eager to be unveiled.

The date for this public presentation had been set for weeks now and was not, as some commentators suggested, a morale boosting stunt for the city. Many officials did note the timing was a fortunate coincidence and what the doctor ordered.

Or no coincidence at all, Negaduck mused. Mingling in the crowd. He had been covertly prowling this world for some time. Perfecting the timing of his plan. This presentation begged to struck down. Glorious perfection of a target for Negaduck to initiate phase two of his campaign. In his continuing war against this was the battleground.

At all costs Negaduck was determined to spoil the party.

…


	9. Ch 9: 2,0

**Disclaimer: I do not own Darkwing Duck™ or any character, location or event from that said show.**

* * *

Last time on The Duck Knight Returns

- Grizzlikof seeks to uncover the mysteries surrounding R.A.B.B.I.T.

- Honker turns down Gosalyn offer for position of sidekick.

- S.H.U.S.H. expects trouble at the presentation for GizmoDuck.

Ch 9: 2.0

Bubba McDuck did not possess a superpower. '_Caveduck_', (Bubba's superhero moniker) had great personal strength without being considered to have super-strength. Incredible endurance, sure. Not super-endurance. Bubba's best friend was a fully grown Triceratops. Not to say Bubba had any measurable super-powered influence over animals. Asked which ability qualified him as a super-hero Bubba would nominate his wilderness survival expertise demonstrated on his hit show, "_Wild Vs Man," _retaining the option of tasking Tootsie to smash anything which deserved it.

Urban survival, Bubba knew, was a whole other ball game. Nevertheless - it's a jungle out there. You may ask how being able to scrounge food from any environment or clothing material or ignitable fuel or navigating by stars qualified Bubba to take down a street thug holding a knife or firearm? The answer: it did not. Bubba was afraid of a knife wielding hood same as anyone. Why shouldn't he be?

No, the lesson Bubba learned evading sharp toothed, bird snacking, thunder lizards as an orphaned child; the lesson which gave Bubba the edge to achieve world record recognition for most junior woodchuck merit badges earned - be prepared.

So, as an aspiring _Darkwing Duck_ had a date and her hero parents took snapshots, _Caveduck _studied sewer maps. Building schematics. Accounts of previous run ins with the Fearsome Five. Trying to get in to Negaduck's head – to BE Negaduck - and understand how he was likely to gate-crash.

Later tonight he would got out and actively hunt for vulnerabilities in the S.H.U.S.H. perimeter.

"… _fought off Negaduck and shut down the gate. And then I killed him."_

Bubba peered up from his notes. What was that he caught a snippet of? What did the television just say? Something, "_Negaduck_," something, "_killed him_."

Negaduck is dead?

He picked up the remote and moved around the table. The tail end of a news – no, special report broadcast. Miracle of modern telecommunications being what they are, television could be rewound.

Negaduck was fine. Negaduck was alive. What the interviewee Rooster claimed was much worse.

"_At great personal risk, Darkwing infiltrated F.O.W.L. Fought off Negaduck and shut down the gate. And then I killed him."_

Rewind.

"… _I killed him._"

Rewind.

"… _I killed him._"

Rewind.

"… _I killed him."_

Rewind.

…

Rewind.

"… _I killed him_."

Quackerjack sat ramrod straight on the rug in front of the T.V.

Negaduck, cheap as anyone will say he is, had the decency to spring for a decent Television for his movie-cave lair. And Quackerjack was rewinding the Spike Angle segment for the umpteenth time.

"Darkwing Duck – is _dead_?"

There is no news. Like bad news. Very, very bad – terrible, horrible, deliciously evil news.

"_Darkwing Duck is dead_!" Quackerjack announced gleefully. The commotion he caused attracted his Fearsome brothers.

"_Darkwing's dead, Darkwing's dead, Darkwing's dead, Darkwing's dead…," _The mad toymaker was behaving more like a kangaroo than a duck. Jumping up and down on the various furniture you'd wonder how the springs could do anything but buckle.

Liquidator was forced to splash the clown before he had a fit, "_Water refreshes the mind_."

"What set him off?" Megavolt scooped up the remote. Bushroot, removed from the others, chattered his teeth on a leafy palm.

"So Negaduck got Darkwing after all," Megs remarked, wistful. Sparring with Darkwing Duck since their college days. Recognised as the hero's arch-nemesis until Negaduck made his explosive appearance in St Canard. Once, Megavolt would have been devastated to not have roasted Darkwing personally. Years of S.H.U.S.H. captivity and torture recast the relatively benign Darkwing Duck in a more favourable light. At least in this rodents consciousness.

Others were less charitable to their fallen foe.

"_Absolute satisfaction_," Liqi said. "_Rerun_!"

_Darkwing stumbled. He was down on one knee. Forehead and cheek flat against the control box. But he would not, could not, remain down._

_The newcomer came forward. The top portion of his body became visible. The spine of his classy, white morning jacket. He approached Darkwing. Cautious. The 9mm in his outstretched arm. Bobbing his head, unsure if his opponent was truly subdued._

_Movement. The Gas Gun was out. Rising._

_Rising._

_..._

The T.V. exploded!

The least fearsome four members of the Fearsome Five gang dove for cover.

Negaduck stood over his compatriots. The Gas Gun, signature weapon of his foe, the weapon he welded to great effect in the Rabbit base raid, still held level at the wreck of a T.V. set.

"_Why would you not mention you killed Darkwing Duck, Mr Negaduck? Sir_?"

This from Mr Banana Brain. Poking his stuffed chin out from under the coffee table where Quackerjack had taken cover.

Megavolt, standing in as Mr Banana Brain since the breakout, found the demands of performing the roll of the split-minded villain's puppet tiresome. If they were going to make progress on Negaduck's designs for a Negagate he had to be more than one half of a ventriloquist act and had petitioned Negs for a dangerous trek in to the public sphere to acquire a new doll.

"Don't believe everything you hear on T.V.," Negs warned. "Final planning session. Now."

…

The duck's gathered compatriots gathered around the planning bench.

"Everyone clear on their assignments?"

All nodded conformity.

"Pirate code. Fall behind, you get left behind," Negaduck squared his famed fedora and selected an AK-47 from his pirate stock. Cocking the weapon. "Even me."

…

Pride of place for GizmoDuck's presentation and they were running late! Morgana scolded Launchpad for his ill-considered chilli-dog stop, but what could he do? He missed lunch and they were already behind schedule thanks to Morg's excessive make up. Sun protection value 130 plus! We are talking about a women who does not care for a single beam of sunlight to blemish a fair feather. Parking would be a nightmare this late in the game. Unfortunate S.H.U.S.H. had warned Launchpad unauthorised air activity would be considered hostile. He could have taken the Thunderquack then, landed on a high rise rooftop. Parking hassles be darned.

Of course the Justice Ducks were expected to make an appearance! They were a family and Fenton the glue whom stuck them together kicking and screaming. For their part, Launchpad and Morg were delighted to lend Fenton support whether it be a celebration or in the midst of battle. Or simply as his very good friend.

Having said such, no member of the Justice Ducks doubted an appearance from St Canard's special inter-dimensional guest. Every member of the team, Gizmo included, argued for delaying this event on the basis it established an all too tempting target for Negaduck. The duck was daring, fearless and harboured a pathologically hatred of joy. Nevertheless, J. Gander insisted and the Justice Ducks relented. The celebration would go ahead. Negaduck would crop up like a stray nail. S.H.U.S.H. would hammer him down.

J. Gander deserved their trust. He would never put lives in harm's way needlessly. Which did not prevent Fenton, Morg and Launchpad holding serious reservations on using the unwitting, innocent public as catnip for Negaduck.

Police patrolled the outer, outer perimeter. Officer's Pickles and Rabbit, leaning against their squad car, gave a wave of recognition. Regardless of the time, Launchpad pulled up for a friendly chat. Launchpad bore no resentment against these officers who, these two in particular, arrested his angel and directed her home on a regular basis. No, Launchpad was grateful for their patience with his duckling angel and appreciated the nights Gosalyn was under his roof.

"Morning officers," Launchpad greeted them warmly. "Change in pace."

"Hello Officer Pickles. Officer Rabbit," Morgana offered. Sharing Launchpad's high opinion of the police officers even if a little more formal and distant in her relations than Launch was. Blame criminal/witch mentality in dealing with lawmen.

"Morning Morgana. Launchpad. Will our favourite troublemaker be entering via the security gate or will she be making other arrangements?" Pickle, of course, asked in good cheer and not as an interrogation. Suggestion of Gosalyn as a troublemaker, accurate though it was, Morgana did not find to be horribly amusing. Least of all from the troublemaker catcher.

"Gosalyn is not a morning person," Morg advised them. "She's dead to the world before 4pm."

"Sleeping off her big dinner and dancing date," Launch added, the proud papa bear.

"I take it all back. This Negaduck scare - I'm nostalgic for Gosalyn and Tankard Muddlefoot. They kept the chase fun."

"Things must be hectic down at the station."

Truth. Pickle related to them how the Negaduck scare held the entire station in a vice grip. Big, secret, S.H.U.S.H. base is raided. Now they experienced the surreal aftermath as the first blow had been landed but before the second is thrown. Everyone at the station, in the municipal office, on the street – everyone – was going about their usual business holding their breath. Lull between missile launch and impact.

"Draw the short straw?" Launchpad chatted casually. No heed to the time. Or parking. Or the line of cars behind him. "You won't see the show from all the way back here."

"_No donut swirling cop inside my perimeter_!"

Officer Rabbit puffed his chest and performed his best impersonation of Agent Donkey. Good enough Morg and Launch knew who he was quoting without further explanation. Rabbit being a terrible actor.

Donkey would gladly have turned out the, "super freaks," he made clear. If J. Gander had not personally intervened. It was a Justice Duck who was the star attraction and the recipient of a S.H.U.S.H. commendation for services for golly sake! And they say Grizzlikof is a ball-buster. Donkey had succeeded thus far in keeping the team of Super heroes in the dark on security arrangements. He could prevent the Justice Ducks from partaking in an official capacity but the Ducks remained private citizens. Capable of attending public functions.

Morg commented on their regal pain in the behind, "Left to Agent Donkey, solely Agent Donkey would occupy space. The rest of us would be crammed in to one corner so tight as to have the mass of a black hole."

The officers laughed for Morgana's assessment. Even if one or both did not comprehend the physics.

"Careful," Pickle advised, "you don't step on Donkey's ego whilst enjoying the presentation. It's everywhere in there."

Before Launchpad could pull away and re-join traffic, "Do you…? Have donuts?"

"You just ate drive through!" Morg criticised.

"On the run!"

"Just rabbit food. Wife's orders."

Past the checkpoint, settling behind several cars waiting to be directed to a park, Launchpad indulged in some thoughtful assessment.

"Pickle has it right. The between stage when the engines cuts out and your still flying. We're driving toward the crash like an outing."

"No one crashes like you Launchpad," Morg teased. On a deeper level she supposed she agreed with him. Marvelled at the notion, two lifelong friends out for a daytime drive and thwarting super villains at 10:30. "Thank goodness Gosalyn has her mind distracted. If she knew the Justice Ducks were out in force today..."

"We can't stop her forever, Morgana. I know the risks but I would rather her stand shoulder to shoulder with the Justice Ducks than seek out Negaduck on her own."

"If we get Negaduck today, it won't be an issue."

…

S.H.U.S.H. command had been re-tasked since the disastrous aborted op that morning. Focus now for the agency was St Canard Square and the historic council municipal building in the island cities heart. Everything which occurred in on the island, S.H.U.S.H. saw. Everything S.H.U.S.H. saw, Donkey saw.

The Lord of St Canard stood over the shoulders of his operators scanning the numerous monitors relying information from cameras situated across the square. Picturing the day in which the entire world would be under his stern watch. A day whose dawn was closer than many suspected.

His right hand, Dog, stood at Donkey's side. "No sign of him yet sir."

"He'll wait until for the festival to reach its climax so don't be getting engrossed on the drama on stage. Keep your eyes off the stage and peeled to your assigned sectors." He spoke into a mike keyed to all agents so his order would be known by every woman and man under his command.

"We have Launchpad McQuack and Morgana McCawber passing through the outer perimeter. All Justice Ducks present and accounted for, sir."

"Good to have the Justice Ducks as support in the event of a Negaduck attack, wouldn't you say?" The ill-considered words of a junior agent recently promoted to the heart of S.H.U.S.H. control and command. Yet to be educated in Donkey's harsh view towards the freak shows and the new company hard line toward vigilantes.

He got a swift education by Donkey placing a strong hoof on the junior's chair and toppling him over.

"Pass the word down the ranks," Donkey spoke. "We are the law in St Canard. Not the carnival freaks."

The junior deposited on the floor uttered no words in protest. Rather, keeping his head down and opinions decidedly to himself, he retook his place at his workstation. None of his co-workers were so foolish as to help him up. Donkey continued to glare icicles at the boy's hated neck until he shivered from the frosty atmosphere.

Satisfied the point had been made, Donkey felt the urge to leave this confining space. Dog stood aside. Vigilant door guards unfastened the rear hatch. Dog trailed him into the midday heat of St Canard Square.

He stepped down from the S.H.U.S.H. control vehicle with Dog at his heel. A large trailer with no windows and all the monitoring conveniences of home. Parked in a roped off corner of the square, here with the throng of St Canard citizens. Commanding from S.H.U.S.H. central control operations room, located in the safety of S.H.U.S.H. H.Q., could be argued to be more efficient. The information nerve centre from which S.H.U.S.H. could observe every detail of his op. If Donkey did appreciate one lesson from his former instructor, Grizzlikof, there are instances where a S.H.U.S.H. agent must be in the centre of the action where he is to utilise his instincts correctly, lead effectively and command respect. Demands on a commanders time dictated most situations were handed off to a capable subordinate. In this case Donkey trusted none above himself so he opted to head the action in person.

The midday sun shone over the numerous skyscrapers into the square and added warmth to the occasion. The large volume of people gave it noise. The small number of authorised food stalls gave it smell. The every-present and conspicuous S.H.U.S.H. agents gave it control.

Donkey observed his people direct parking and scold litter bugs. He scanned the high rooftops for the snipers he did not spot but knew to be present. He breathed in the city. Solely Dog was in earshot as he uttered, "_I_ am the law, St Canard."

…

The outer S.H.U.S.H. checkpoint was an intimidating show of force.

"I didn't know SHUSH had access to that kind of equipment. You'd think they were a National Guard detachment!"

Water cannon equipped fighting vehicles. Armoured checkpoint guards. Retractable spikes should any vehicle not stop. Had the event been mistaken for a World Trade Organisation summit.

"Hooter successfully argued to Congress SHUSH is underequipped to deal with modern criminals," Villains being increasingly equipped with high tech gear of their own design.

"Spies in tanks. Not subtle. Seems somewhat overkill for one duck. Even if we are talking about Negaduck."

"You may be right. But with the numbers turning out to see GizmoDuck…? I fear all Negaduck need to is cause harm to a few innocent bystanders and he's underlined his fact he can strike anywhere. Remember, carnage is all he truly desires."

Carnage, misery, violence, fear. No reasoning beyond sick self-gratification. Nonetheless, seven years – a witch had to wonder. Was there something more behind his return?

…

Fearsome S.H.U.S.H. security and fear of an attack kept the crowd numbers relatively low. Others would brave a sandstorm to be here, such was the immense popularity of the star attraction. Central city S.H.U.S.H. modified to become their primary operations zone with the general public locked out. Without extensive documentation as to your identity zealous guards held no qualms for turning families away. Officials and dignitaries present by S.H.U.S.H. invitation could not evade the random cavity search. Concerned with the super villain situation as they were, city councillors were questioning, quietly, amongst themselves, who was running St Canard anyway?

"They tried to turn me back at the gate assuming I was a beast. They called animal control to relocate me to the wild," Stegmutt related his tale of security checkpoint woe. "I couldn't get by without a rabbis shot."

"Aye, I'd have never gotten Tootsie in," Bubba referred to his pet Triceratops.

"That may be for the best," Morgana advised. Overzealous security, triceratops, villain mayhem and crowds - a winning combination.

Launchpad asked, "You guys seen Camille?" As a villain presented to the Justice Ducks to complete her community service, the group felt more comfortable with Camille in sight. Shape shifters were notoriously difficult to maintain a track of.

"Agent Donkey said he had an assignment for her," said Stegmutt.

"SHUSH business," Bubba remarked, grimly. And he appeared uncomfortable broaching another topic. "Did you catch the Spike Angle special report last night?"

"Not as such." Morgana spent the afternoon and well in to the evening with Gosalyn. The first quality time shared – it had been a long time. And once they had Gosalyn inside that stunning dress the first thing Morg did was call Launchpad and demand he get to Tank's flat on the double with his camera and as much film as he could carry. Even if they had less to spare for dear Fenton today. There were going to be plenty of photographers to cover GizmoDuck, Morgana was sure.

After which the long-time friends slipped home. Owing to their Justice Duck obligations each had taken a leave of absence from their respective businesses. There were details for the next day's events to work out. Instead, they talked in to the night. Communicating their mutual relief to see Honker and Gosalyn mend fences and sharing their troubles with Gosayln's sudden Darkwing revival and relating their crazy adventures whilst sitting comfortably 'uncomfortably' close on the couch until Launchpad rolled his head back and nodded off. The poor daylight creature awake past his bedtime. So Morg had supported his head under a pillow, reposing herself against her best friend and bid the sand man grant her some zzz.

Blissfully unaware of news concerning the missing member of their ad hoc family unit.

Word had not reached their ears, Bubba understood. Recalling the claim made by the guest of Spike Angle,

"_Darkwing Duck was dispatched to shut down the F.O.W.L. gate…. And then I killed him."_

He only replayed the clip a dozen times. He could remember the villains final words for Spike as if the secret guest were, in person, speaking to him now.

"I _need_ to talk with both of you. Can we step somewhere private for a moment? I promise, it can't wait." He did not want to agitate his allies on the verge of what everyone was predicting to be a big fight. Nor could he risk the Negaduck crushing his teammates with this knowledge at an inopportune moment. This event, it was a summarily unsuitable place to break devastating news.

"Sure thing," Launchpad agreed. Morg was a little more concerned about the timing. But this was _Caveduck_. If he said the matter could not wait….

"Lead on, Caveduck."

"Stegmutt, hold the fort will you?" Bubba asked his dino-pal. He knew a secluded area, in the backroom of a café within the cordon zone.

"Okay."

The more senior Justice Ducks out of view, Stegmutt turned to the nearest passer-by. A mallard in a sleeveless green sweater overtop a pink shirt. Asking the stunned fellow, "Excuse me, are you a supervillain?"

…

"_Here he is! Your - GizmoDuck_!"

The mayor did a good job whipping the crowd into a frenzy, Morgana decided. Deafening roar, hands waving in the air. Strategically placed confetti raining down. It was the middle of the day but they launched fireworks anyway. GizmoDuck deserved fireworks. The mayor introduced the hero of day outlining a select few of Gizmo's nail biting recues and audacious arrests. Topped off by his charity work. Expertly timed to build expectation without dragging on to impatience.

The citizens did love a hero in shining armour. Do-good duck with a chest of steel. But speak to him on a personal level, one on one, most agree it was GizmoDuck's humility which is striking. That his image was carefully manicured by a Scrooge McDuck funded public relations manager did not harm his saintly standing within society - Morgana did not know if the general public could name the remaining roster of the Justice Ducks.

Counting down said roster, Stegmutt stalked the crowd, nosing for trouble but causing most to be had. And there remained no sign of Camille. Morgana, Launchpad and Caveduck should have been found backstage in support of Gizmo. Instead, Caveduck ushered his colleagues away from the activity. Past idling patrons of a central city located cafe serving caffeine to agents and or others who choose to witness history in relative comfort. Past the bar and kitchen staff.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall! Donkey nixed any ideas of committing a fly cam to monitor the Justice Duck deviation from his explicit instruction. The witch's companion pets kept consuming them and those micro-bots cost cred disproportionate to their size! It was against the strong stated view of Donkey the 'freak show' had been admitted. Rare defiance of authority for Fenton Crackshell, rolling up to the mule and rolling out his demands. Donkey has been notified should his friends be told to walk, Gizmo would walk. Then Agent Donkey could enter stage left and boost the morale of the city and, oh yeah, volunteer his hind quarter to Negaduck as tempting S.H.U.S.H. bait.

Donkey welcomed the Justice Ducks to the event. Via a terse memo.

"Presenting to GizmoDuck today. The Presidential Citizens Medal," the major punctuated his speech with pauses to underline his dramatic announcement, "I welcome to the stage. James Hooter!"

Seated amongst select dozen special guests on the left wing of the stage, Hooter rose to attended the podium as figures around him politely clapped. They could be recognised as representatives for various St Canard institutions. The morning edition newspaper named a handful of councillors and a police commissioner flown in from Duckburg to give thanks from the home town. Earlier, Bubba noted to his teammates the absence of a representative of McDuck's organisation. The Caveduck gave the impression of feeling snubbed for his uncle. Conspicuous when you consider McDuck Industries funded the Gizmo-suit and GizmoDuck's on-going crime prevention efforts.

Shaking the hand of the mayor, thanking him for his introduction and repeating the gesture with GizmoDuck, whom extended a third gadget hand from his chest to wow the crowd, Director J. Gander Hooter took his place at the podium atop a strategically placed box.

"It is my privilege to be here today. To acknowledge a hero. A hero who has safeguarded our community for nearly a decade. The tin man with a heart."

The mayor offered Hooter a rectangular jewellery box by which Hooter accepted and, facing it toward the crowd, he did open the box to demonstrate the medallion disc within. You could not make out the detail from the cheap seats though it was known GizmoDuck was to receive the Presidential Citizens Medal, ordained with the iconic eagle. Before the crowd, Hooter removed the medallion from its protective box, handing the box back to the attending Mr mayor and suspending the medallion in the light of day on its dark blue with a light blue central stripe and white edge ribbon.

He beckoned GizmoDuck.

GizmoDuck rolled forward and bowed his head. It was fortunate Hooter was standing atop that box because Director Hooter is actually a rather short bird whereas the Gizmo armour doubles the height of Fenton Crackshell and it is most difficult to buckle at the knees or waist in his gear.

Over GizmoDuck's dipped head, Hooter placed the Presidential Citizens Medal around the hero's neck to the applause of every being present.

At his station in the mobile command centre Agent Donkey only had the time of day to sneer and get back to monitoring facial recognition systems turned on the crowd, look in to the interrogation of suspects quietly lifted from the crowd and demand updates from all stations. Ensuring they were alert and watching their zones, not the show.

Gizmo shook the hand of J. Gander once again and stood tall, holding the medal high for others to see. Understanding the metal disk may be a squint and a speck for those in the back, Gizmo deployed his largest gadget magnifying glass. Further evidence of his considerate nature. When he was sure everyone had an opportunity for a glimpse he posed for the crowd in a heroic mould. Hands against his hips. Left shoulder forward.

Agent Dog momentarily forgot himself. "He's really enjoying himself out there. No one deserves it more."

"Eyes off the show!" Donkey chastised his subordinate.

"In conjunction…," Hooter spoke in to the podium mike, the applause slowly dying to allow his voice to be heard. "To help GizmoDuck better protect the city, as per my powers under the PARROT Act, I hereby officially deputise GizmoDuck as an agent of SHUSH, with all lawful powers and responsibilities, and charge him to watch over St Canard."

Meaning he answered to James Gander Hooter alone. Invited guest, the Chief of St Canard Police, was gruff but clapped all the same. The superheroes and the spies rarely sought his input into goings on in his city. Only put it over him to clean up the mess. There had been talk amongst commentators of a mysterious extra surprise from Hooter leading up the ceremony. As if this honour was not enough….

"To commemorate new ties I gift to you, GizmoDuck, to symbolise our collaboration," Hooter spoke as if to GizmoDuck. His words were for the masses. "The very latest in armour warfare and urban pacification technology."

Behind the stage, on a pre-arranged cue. The grunting of an engine coupled with hydraulic motivators. The crane which helped cobble together this stage a day previous now hoisting an impressively massive box.

"What's that?" Now, unlike Agent Dog's renewed vigour, Stegmutt's vigilance took a nosedive with the kick-off of the grand show. You could not fault sweet Stegmutt. He was younger than many realise, undergoing his transformation from duck to dinosaur very early. He never received basic education before Caveduck took a keen interest. Stegmutt held the same low attention span as your baby brother who happened to be large enough to trample an elephant. He beheld the Hooter's mystery box, it could only be described as a vault, with childlike curiosity as it swung overhead.

"Oh, boy! A surprise!" the lovable dinosaur squealed.

The vault set down gently, still with a thud. It was evident why a crane was necessary. A hand cart would not budge it. A tank shell may scratch the paint.

Heavy bolts and gears unwound. Hooter's mystery box opened to a unseen command. In fact the command was given by a remote in the director's hand. Worthy theatrical timing all the same. "The Gizmo suit 2.0."

…

It was a beast. Robo-Cop meets the Abrams Tank. Rippling with power. S.H.U.S.H. colours, navy blue with grey lines. Increased armour - a skint lizard would be mistaken as a professional quarterback wearing those shoulder pads. The signature GizmoDuck drive system was out in favour of tried and true two feet. The pilot's face and neck were to be fully enclosed giving the armour a look somewhere between samurai and soulless robot.

…

Now.

Hidden in plain sight. A face in the crowd. A ferociously feathered fiend.

His devious mind divined now as the time to strike.

"Dorothy is home. Now to see about a witch."


End file.
